


Finding Harmony

by technetium43



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Classical Music, M/M, Manhattan, Musicians, New York City, POV Stephen Strange, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Winter, but so is tony so it balances out, stephen is kind of an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technetium43/pseuds/technetium43
Summary: Stephen Strange is a world-renowned neurosurgeon first and foremost, but he also plays the violin. He's the first chair in the Manhattan Philharmonic String Orchestra, and he loves it. Things are practically going perfect in his life. That is, until Tony Stark shows up.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 40
Kudos: 62





	1. Auditions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I got inspired for this a few days ago and only got around to writing it now. I'm not sure how exactly how long it'll end up being, but I don't think it'll be that much of a slow burn. I have an idea of where the story will go, but that's about it. Also, I play the viola in real life, but I'm not the most expert on some orchestra and string terminology, so sorry if I mess anything up. Thanks for reading!

Stephen Strange wasn’t a man with many social obligations. His work as a surgeon kept him busy, and he usually spent the rare free time that he did have on reading the newest medical journals and the occasional spy novel. Life was a continuous series of routines that he repeated over and over. This didn’t bother him, though. It actually gave him some comfort to know exactly what was coming next. 

The closest thing to a social obligation that Stephen did have was his participation in the Manhattan Philharmonic String Orchestra. He played the violin, and he played it well. The rote precision that Stephen’s hands possessed helped with that. Music was something that he found an easy sort of pleasure in, especially classical music. Stephen would listen to jazz often as well, and sometimes when he was feeling daring he would put on some classic rock. He despised the kind of music that they played on the radio, however. To him, even calling that stuff music was a stretch.

Despite the official-sounding name, the Manhattan Philharmonic wasn’t the most professional orchestra in the city. It was eclipsed by multiple others in stature and renown. Stephen didn’t care about that, mostly because he didn’t have time to make a commitment as serious as joining something like the New York Philharmonic. Besides, he liked the people he played with. He’d been a part of the MPO for five years now, and each year he’d been the Concertmaster, or the first-chair violin.

So overall, Stephen was pretty happy with his life. It wasn’t as if he had that much time to be sad. Things chugged along at a nice pace, and seasons bled into each other without much warning. He expected he would stay at the top of his field until his retirement, but that was so far into the future that he didn’t pay it much attention. Things were normal for him, or as normal as they would ever be, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

***  
_I’m going to blow Fury away today._

Stephen smiled to himself. He had been practicing a sonata by Brahms for the annual audition, and he knew that he had perfected it. It wasn’t the most difficult piece he had ever played, but he had truly made it his through hours of hard work. As he buttoned up his overcoat, he wondered what kind of music their conductor, a stern man named Nick Fury, would pick for them to play this year. There would probably be some Bach. Fury loved Bach. 

He had signed up for an early audition time, due to the fact that he had an afternoon shift at the hospital. Walking the twelve blocks to where they practiced and auditions were being held, the Lieber theater, would have been nice if not for the light dusting of snow that was falling. 

_It’s only the beginning of October._ He frowned. _Already?_

By the time he made it inside the warm lobby of the theater, his coat and violin case were covered in tiny flakes of snow and he could feel a chill run through him. This winter would probably be bad if things kept up this way. 

_I wonder if there will be any familiar faces back in the ready rooms. I did sign up for one of the earliest available slots. If I was a betting man, I would say there are good odds it’ll be Natasha Romanov. She seems like the type to want to be up first._

Stephen was not under the impression that you saved the best for last. In his mind, that was rather silly. What you did do was go first to set the precedent. You showed off your talent and made it impossible for anyone to follow after you.

Most of the halls were empty, probably due to the time. The only person Stephen passed on his way to the ready rooms was a janitor, who was so engrossed in mopping that he didn’t even look up. It was comforting to come back to the theater after the months of the orchestra’s off-season. A soft smell of lemon cleaning solution and wood polish permeated the building. It was nothing like the clinically white halls of the hospital Stephen worked in, but it still managed to be one of the few places he felt at home in. 

His audition was scheduled for nine o’clock, and he’d arrived so he would have some time to warm up and run through a section that had bothered him when he’d first learned the piece. He could do it with no problem now, but it couldn’t hurt to practice a little more.

The first thing Stephen noticed upon entering the ready room was the music. It wasn’t anything coming from a stringed instrument, rather it was blasting from a small speaker placed on top of one of the counters. It sounded familiar to Stephen, but he couldn’t remember the name of the song.

_What the…_

Perched atop the counter next to the speaker was a man. Much like the song, there was something vaguely familiar about him. He wore a rumpled suit and a pair of oversized sunglasses that looked ridiculous inside. His hair stuck out in all directions. Noticing Stephen come in, he turned. “Hey, there.”

_Is he lost? He can’t be auditioning. Not looking like that._

Stephen had worn a dark green sweater and a pair of fitted black pants, with the intent to look formal but at ease. This man had evidently been going for the ‘just got run over by a steamroller’ look instead. Struggling to not sound too full of disdain, Stephen responded. “Hello.”

“You must be here for the auditions too.”

_Oh God. He’s not lost. Well, nevermind. They won’t let him in. I can tell that just by looking at him. Who blares rock music right before an audition? It isn’t done._

“Yes. I am.” Stephen stared pointedly at the speaker. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Hm?” The man looked confused. “Oh, the music? Sure, one second.” He whipped out his phone and the speaker went quiet. 

_Well, at least he doesn’t seem completely rude._ Stephen moved to an opposite corner of the room and took off his coat. The space was used for theater performances as well, so there were mirrors that ran along the wall for performers to do their make-up in. Stools and chairs were scattered around haphazardly. As he had expected, there were a few music stands piled up at the back. He extracted one and set it up to the correct height. 

Opening his case and taking out his violin, he could sense eyes on him. The man was staring at him. This rubbed Stephen the wrong way.

_Now that I’ve told him to turn that noise off, is he just going to stare at me? Doesn’t he want to warm up if he’s going to audition? Does he even care about this?_

“I recognize you.” The man said, a sort of interest in his tone.

Stephen didn’t look over his shoulder. Instead, he stayed focused on his violin as he responded. “Oh?”

_That isn’t a surprise if he works in medicine. But that can’t be. Him, a doctor? No, maybe he’s just someone who keeps up on the scene._

It was still difficult for Stephen to imagine the man engaging in any sort of intellectual pursuit. 

“Yeah, you’re Stephen Strange, right? The surgeon. I’ve read about some of your work.”

“You have? That’s wonderful.” Stephen’s tone was flat. 

_He can read. That’s unexpected. I suppose I should ask him his name. It’s the only polite thing to do._

Stephen did not ask the man for his name. Instead, he started tuning his violin. It could be tricky sometimes, but it was worth it for the sound that it put out. Rather than go through the obvious route of searching for one in Europe, he’d gotten his in a small settlement in Nepal the last time he had travelled. It had served him faithfully for years, and he was convinced that the craftsmanship and sound quality couldn’t be beat. 

“I’m sure that you know who I am.” The man said, with a tone dripping in assured confidence. 

Stephen glanced at the man via the reflection in the mirror in front of him. He had a smug grin on his face. While Stephen was sure he had seen him somewhere before, he couldn’t figure out where. “I’m afraid not. Should I?”

For a split second, the man’s face changed to an expression of surprise. The smugness returned quickly, though. “Seriously? I get that surgeons are busy, but do you live under a rock? I’m Tony Stark.”

“Stark Industries?”

“The very same.”

_No wonder he’s such an asshole. But that doesn’t explain why he looks so horrible. With his money, he should be able to show up to an audition and look professional. Wait, why is he even auditioning here? This doesn’t seem like something he would be into._

“I didn’t know that you played an instrument.” Stephen said simply.

“Well, you can understand how something like that would get lost in the fray of everything else. The tabloids aren’t keen to hear about something as boring as playing the violin when they could be reporting on what I was up to in the clubs.”

_He plays the violin? Of course he does._

Stephen risked turning his head to look directly at Stark. “I don’t find it boring. If you do, then this probably isn’t the place for you.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant. I just meant that in comparison, it isn’t the juiciest piece of gossip. Besides, I haven’t played in years.”

_Then why are you here?_

Stephen went back to tuning his violin, hoping that Stark would stop talking. He didn’t.

“The only reason I’m here is because my friend Rhodey told me about this. It sounded fun, and I kind of miss playing. I just wish I had signed up earlier. By the time I remembered to do it, this was the only slot available. Seems like no one else was as much of an early bird as you.”

“Do you mean James Rhodes?” Stephen asked.

“That’s him. You know him?”

James Rhodes was one of the MPO’s double basses. Stephen hadn’t interacted with him at length, but he knew Rhodes to be a kind and outgoing man. He couldn’t imagine why Rhodes would associate with Stark. “In passing, yes. He’s very good at what he does.”

“Totally.” Stark frowned. “Do you have any aspirin on you, Doc? I have a headache the size of an elephant.”

Stephen couldn’t believe it at first. It made sense, but something about it was too comical to be true. “Are you hungover?”

Stark scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Although I’m not sure if it counts as being hungover if you never went to sleep in the first place. I had a crazy night. I remembered that I had this audition today at about four in the A.M., and by that point it seemed smarter to just stay awake.”

“I doubt you’ll do well, then. It sounds to me like you set yourself up for failure.” Stephen said, letting judgement seep into his tone.

Stark waved him off. “I’m not too worried about it. Sure, I’m rusty, but Rhodey told me this thing was pretty low-key. Plus, I’m famous. That always helps.”

Stephen’s annoyance turned to anger. “I’m not sure what exactly Mr. Rhodes told you, but we don’t take this as some time to goof off. You have to earn your spot here. If you’re not interested in putting in the effort to make good music, I suggest you leave now.”

Through the mirror, Stephen saw Stark’s head tilt to the side. It seemed he had finally picked up on the edge in Stephen’s tone. “Let me guess. You’re the first-chair violin?”

Stephen nodded. 

“So you’re worried that I’m going to take your spot? That’s what this is?” 

Stephen bit back a laugh. _Worried that he’ll take my spot? There’s no way in hell that he would. Walking in looking like that, still half-drunk or high. I doubt he can play well. And it doesn't matter if he’s the President of the United States, Fury isn’t likely to look kindly upon him if he can’t play well._

“No. I’m not worried about that.” Stephen said back. “I just wanted to let you know that we take things seriously here. Having met you, I sense that you have trouble with doing that.”

Stark pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, and Stephen made eye contact with him through the mirror. Though he looked down immediately, he was struck by how clearly he could see the soft brown of Stark’s eyes despite how the mirror was partially dirty. “No trouble at all, Doc. Now, about that aspirin?”

 _I should lie. The worse his headache is, the worse he’ll perform._ As soon as the thought shot through his head, Stephen felt a tinge of shame. No matter how much he disliked Stark, that didn’t seem fair. “Yes, I believe I have some.” He dug into the deep pockets of his coat and brought out a small bottle, which he tossed to Stark.

Stark caught it easily and twisted the cap off eagerly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“I’m going to warm up now, if you don’t mind.” Stephen said.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

_Is he just going to sit there and watch me? Fine. Let him._

Right after he started playing, Stephen slipped into the familiar rhythms of the piece. He was still aware of Stark’s eyes on his back, but he could ignore them better when he was immersed in the music. When the notes sang from his bow just right, Stephen often imagined a portal opening to another world. That was what music was to him. A portal, an escape from the stress of his hospital work and everything else he had on his plate. When he played, there was only him and his instrument, or him and the other musicians if he was playing with a group. It was freeing. 

Though he’d planned to go over a few specific spots, he ended up playing the piece from start to finish. Part of him wanted to show Stark how outclassed he was. When he finished, there was a moment of silence before Stark began to clap.

“That was nice. Your F natural sounded a bit sharp, though.”

Stephen frowned. “What? No it didn’t.”

“Just calling it like I heard it.” Stark shrugged. “You’re good. I see why you're the first chair.”

“Thank you.” Stephen responded. 

_Was I really too sharp? Is he just messing with me? I never make simple mistakes like that. He must be messing with me._

By the time Stephen was paying attention again, Stark was back on his phone. “Ugh. It’s going to snow all day. I thought October was supposed to be fall.”

Stephen made a sound of affirmation and started in on some of the smaller sections he had meant to look at originally. He went through them multiple times, and Stark stayed silent. He almost forgot that the other man was even there until he heard him jump down from the counter. 

“I think you’re up, Doc. You’re at nine, right?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Stephen was grateful that he would soon be out of Stark’s presence. If things went the way he expected them to, he would never have to endure the man again. He gathered his violin, bow and music and made for the door out to the stage. Fury would be waiting in the audience, probably with the unreadable expression that he always plastered onto his face for auditions.

“Oh, shit. Wait!” Stark called after him. “Do you want your aspirin back?”

Stephen glanced back. “You can keep it. I sense you might need it again in the future.” As he walked out the door, he did his best to put Stark out of his mind. However, that was difficult. Immediately after Stephen left, he heard the speaker start blasting rock music again. 

_I hope Fury laughs him off the stage._ Stephen thought with contempt. There was something about Stark that bothered Stephen in a way he couldn’t describe. He took a deep breath. This was his time. 

_Time to perform._

***  
It normally took a week or so after auditions for the roster to be sent out. It came through e-mail and was also available on the website, but Stephen always looked at it in person. Fury would post it on one of the small notice boards in the corner of the lobby of the theater. The trek to look at it had become an annual tradition for him. He would get up at an obscenely late time (eight in the morning), and grab a pastry and a cup of tea from his favorite coffee shop before heading to the Lieber theater. 

Though he’d gotten the email notification three days back and left it unopened, he hadn’t been able to make it to the theater until the weekend came around. A series of patients involved in car accidents had rolled in after Wednesday, when it had snowed again. One woman had been so seriously hurt that Stephen thought he might lose her, but a ten-hour surgery on her proved successful. 

So it was with a light heart that Stephen approached the Lieber. He had plans to meet his friend Wong for lunch before going back into work, and everything seemed right in his world. Even the disgusting brown slush that the snow had turned into couldn’t dampen his mood. He was nearly finished with his tea as he walked into the theater. As usual, there was no one in the lobby. It was quiet and calm, just as he liked it. 

He walked over to the board with the roster on it slowly. He didn’t let his eyes move to the paper listing the names of the violins. He would save his victory for last. 

Both familiar and new names popped up on the other lists. He smirked when he saw that Natasha Romanov had beaten Clint Barton out for first-chair cello again. Clint had been claiming for years that he would get the spot, but could never seem to get past Natasha. Stephen noticed that the quiet man with glasses, Bruce Banner was at the back of the cello section once again. He had only heard Bruce play anything of length individually one time, but he was surprised to see him that far in the back. Scott Lang, who was new to Stephen, would sit next to Bruce.

It was no surprise to see Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers at the head of the viola section. Being part of an ensemble was more about a group connection than an individual one, but it still made sense to Stephen for them to be stand partners. They worked very well together. Sam Wilson was third-chair, which Stephen had also expected.

_Yep, and there’s Rhodes as first-chair of the double basses. Oh, and Thor. Who could forget Thor?_

Stephen had begrudgingly come to like Thor over the few years he had known him. At first, Thor had come off as loud and a bit dull, but when Stephen took to talking to him after rehearsals, he saw how intelligent the man really was. He was a huge man, and it would have been hard to imagine him playing anything but the double bass. 

The second violins also had some new people that Stephen wasn’t familiar with. Fury had given the first chair to a man named T’Challa. The second chair, Wanda Maximoff, was also new to him.

_It’s good that we’re getting some fresh blood. It might change up our sound, but I’m sure that it will be for the better._

When he did finally let himself look at the paper full of accepted violins, he moved his eyes from the bottom to the top. It was mostly regulars, with a few new people including a woman named Shuri and a man named Peter Parker. 

He closed his eyes before he got to the first-chair slot and took a breath in. 

_I have it on lock. I do every year. There’s no one who could come close to my level of skill. I really shouldn’t work myself up so much over it._

Still, he liked the anticipation. Maybe it was odd to care so much when he had much more important things going for him, like being one of the best neurosurgeons in the world, but it mattered. 

He opened his eyes and read the name of the first chair. Then, he read it again.

_What? No._

Printed out clearly in neat twelve point font, was the name Tony Stark. Directly below it, indicating the second chair, was Stephen’s name. 

“It can’t be.” He muttered. He was torn between anger and sadness. 

_I worked for that audition. Fury knows how much work I put in! And he gives it to a man who comes in off a bender? What on earth is he thinking?_

Stephen stiffened as he realized someone was behind him. 

“What’s up, Doc?” 

_Great. He is the last person I want to see right now._

Stephen hoped he didn’t look like he was about to lose it as he turned to see Stark. He was much more presentable. An expensive looking black coat hung over a dress shirt and a pair of slacks. The sunglasses were gone, but he did have a black and gold watch on his wrist that Stephen guessed was worth tens of thousands of dollars.

_Maybe he can only handle one gaudy accessory at a time. Thank God for the rest of us._

“Stark.” Was all he could say. 

“I got that email, but I thought it would be nice to come see the list in person.” Stark smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Stephen hated the fact that Stark had shown up. Not only had he taken the spot that was rightfully Stephen’s, he had managed to mess up the annual ritual of coming up to view the roster. “I like to see things in person as well.”

Stark was staring at his face. “Bad news?”

_Am I that obvious?_

Stephen sighed and took a step to the side. “See for yourself.”

Moving forward, Stephen watched Stark’s eyes move straight to where both of their names were. “Holy shit! I mean, I knew that I would be up there, but damn. Looks like we’ll be stand partners, huh?”

“Yes. Congratulations.”

“What do you think of Fury?” Stark asked suddenly. “Couldn’t really tell what he thought of me. I mean, I guess he liked my audition. Obviously.”

“He’s a fantastic conductor.” Stephen answered honestly. “He has a low tolerance for nuisances.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Okay, we’re still doing this? I get that you’re upset about not being first, but I figure you can handle it. You’re already the best at everything else you do, right?”

“Right.” Stephen said, knowing how self-centered he sounded. 

“Seriously, no hard feelings.” Stark held out his hand as if to shake and Stephen stared at it. When Stark saw Stephen’s hesitation, he spoke again. “ I’m used to being the biggest asshole in a room too, and I get the feeling that you might have taken my spot there, so we’re even.”

Stephen glared at him and felt his face turn red. He knew that if he stayed any longer, he would say things that he would regret. Like it or not, he would have to play next to this man for the better part of a year. 

_If he even shows up._

So, Stephen turned on his heel and left without another word. Stark yelled after him, “Hey, I was joking! Really, Doc. I swear!”

For the first time since he had joined the MPO, Stephen was not looking forward to going back to rehearsals. 


	2. First Rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I was trying to look into more about how semi-professional orchestras work, and I realized I'm not sure if they usually have two people to a stand. if that isn't true, i hope you can suspend your disbelief. I'm basing most of what I'm writing on my experiences at the high school and college level, but I'm generally clueless on anything too nuanced. (I'm not a fan of classical and some of the music I listen to would probably irritate Stephen to no end if he heard it)

“And then he called me an asshole, so I left.” Stephen finished.

Wong looked up at him from the salad he was eating. “The way you told it, he sounded like the asshole in the situation.”

“Exactly.” Stephen frowned.

“But, you’ve been known to exaggerate and I wasn’t there. Therefore, it’s hard for me to say for sure who was the asshole out of the two of you.”

“Great, you ruined it.” 

“I’m just being honest with you, Stephen. You impress yourself very strongly upon others. I think you’re upset that you’ve finally met someone who can press back.”

“Since when are you a psychologist? I’m the doctor here.” Stephen knew that Wong was trying to help, but it still irked him. It was clear that Stark was the problem. 

“I never said I was a psychologist. I’m a librarian. But I have been watching a good deal of Dr. Phil recently, and-”

“Don’t talk about him.” Stephen cut Wong off. “That man shouldn’t be allowed to call himself a doctor, let alone have a television show.”

Wong shrugged, stopped in his tracks by the finality of Stephen’s tone. “You’re probably right.” 

Stephen had met Wong on a random trip he had taken into the East Village years ago. He had been lured into Wong’s shop with the promise of old and rare books and discovered a friend instead. Friends were hard to come by for him with his schedule and outward demeanor, so he treasured the connection that they had formed. 

On the surface, the two seemed quite different. Wong was something of a scholar, investigating mysticism in ancient East Asian cultures. He believed some of the archaic tales about magic and energies, which bothered Stephen to no end. Despite that, Stephen thought that he would have liked to live like Wong in another life, surrounded by stacks of old texts and forgotten stories. 

“Tell me. Does he look different than he does in the tabloids?” Wong asked, breaking the short silence that had formed between them. 

“You read tabloids?”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “What, are you above that?”

_Yes._

“I wouldn’t spend my time on them, no. I wouldn’t know if he looks any different in person. I will say that he cuts a fine figure when he isn’t sleep-deprived and drunk.”

Wong’s eyebrow shot up further. 

_Oh great. Now he’s going to think I have some sort of crush._

The very idea was ridiculous, but he knew that Wong wouldn’t see that. Wong had been convinced as of late that Stephen needed to start dating again. He hadn’t been with anyone since Christine had broken up with him two and a half years ago, for being a ‘completely self-absorbed asswipe’.

“He cuts a fine figure? Does that mean what I think it means, Stephen?”

Stephen glared at Wong, intent on shutting the idea down before it got anywhere. “It most certainly does not. I told you to stop getting those ideas about my dating life.”

“What dating life?”

Stephen made a face at him. “Very funny.”

“I’m being serious. Sometimes I wonder if you’re intent on staying single forever.”

_Well, that was the plan after Christine. Who would want to settle down with a completely self-absorbed asswipe? I know that I wouldn’t._

Wong must have read his expression and gotten the gist of his thoughts. “You are going to stay single forever? What a tragedy.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not mocking you. I think it would be good for you to find someone special.”

Stephen sighed. “I never bother you with this sort of thing. You really couldn’t extend the same courtesy to me?”

“It’s different for me. I know that I’m fine on my own. I have what I need. I’m happy.”

“And I’m not?”

Wong shrugged and speared a cherry tomato with his fork. “Everytime I see you, you find something to complain about.”

“Complaining doesn’t mean I’m not happy.” Stephen said back. Wong was honest to a fault. Too honest. Talking to him sometimes meant confronting thoughts that were better left buried. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Something other than the millionaire tech mogul who stole your seat? I can’t imagine anything that could be as entertaining.”

“Billionaire.” Stephen corrected.

“What?”

“He’s a billionaire.”

Wong grinned. “How did you know that?”

“I don’t know. I just did.” Stephen looked away. “He can’t really be better than me. He said that he hadn’t played in years.”

“You are good.” Wong nodded. “But I haven’t heard him play, so I couldn’t say who’s better.” Stephen hadn’t heard him either, and was starting to form a sense of nervous anticipation over it. The two ways it could play out weren’t very appealing. Either he was better than Stark and had lost his seat unfairly, which would be horrible, or he was worse than him. That was even harder to think about.

Stephen looked out the window. The restaurant table they were at gave them a good view of the street. It was crowded with cars as always, and pedestrians pushed past each other on the sidewalks. “It’s snowing again.” Stephen observed.

“That it is.” Wong paused. “When’s the first rehearsal?”

“Tuesday night.” 

“Do you want my advice?”

_I get the feeling I’m going to hear it no matter what answer I give you._

“Sure. It couldn’t hurt.” Stephen answered. 

Wong took a breath in, like he was about to drop some serious wisdom on Stephen. “Try not being the asshole for once.”

“What?”

“You got off on the wrong foot with him, he rubbed you the wrong way, all of that. If you’re going to have to co-exist with him for months, you might as well make the effort to fix that. And that starts with you not giving him one of your scowls.”

“I don’t scowl.” Stephen scowled.

“You do, and it’s very fitting for you. It helps add to the whole genius doctor thing you have going for you.” Wong said. “But try to not do that. Be nice.”

“The next time I give you advice, I’m going to do a horrible job to get back at you.” Stephen glanced at his phone. He had to go in to work soon. 

“Stephen.” Wong chuckled. “Let’s not pretend that I would ever need advice from you. In this friendship, I am the wise sage and you are the foolhardy idiot who needs to be repeatedly humbled.”

“Foolhardy idiot? I was listed as one of the top three neurosurgeons in the world last year.” Stephen shot back.

Wong laughed even more. “Did you not hear the part about me having to repeatedly humble you?”

Stephen rolled his eyes, but there was humor behind it. “I have to go. I might be in the Village sometime in the next few weeks. I’ll drop by.”

“I look forward to it.” 

Once Stephen was walking away, Wong called after him. “Remember. Don’t be an asshole!” Stephen pretended he hadn’t heard him.

_Easy for you to say. You’ve never met Stark._

***

The next couple of days went by in a blur. He was on the clock for most of them, only returning to his apartment for a few hours here and there to try and sleep. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even leave the hospital to rest. He had a cot set out in one of the spare rooms that he would use when he didn’t want to travel back home. 

Thoughts of the new order of the MPO would slip into his head at random intervals, and immediately be replaced by more pressing ones, like the angle he needed to make an incision into someone’s skull. He was definitely more irritable than usual, and he had to force himself to apologize to one of his nurses after he’d raised his voice at them when they were taking too long to get something done.

Stephen prided himself on staying calm and professional, so it said something that he had let his composure slip. The nurse he had said sorry to almost looked more scared when receiving the apology, as if Stephen would leap up and bite her head off at any moment. 

_I’m definitely not taking Wong’s advice very well. Hm._

He left the Metro-General Hospital at five in the morning on Tuesday and crashed on his couch as soon as he made it in his door. He got up again by noon, deciding to put the free afternoon he had to use. A shopping trip ate away a few hours. Buying groceries made him feel a bit silly as he knew he likely wouldn’t have time to cook them, but he did so anyway. 

Then, he decided to practice his violin. His practice habits had fallen to the wayside with his work schedule recently, and it was possible that was the reason why he was no longer the first chair. He wanted and needed to be better.

Before he took it out of the case, he glanced out of his window. The snow from the weekend was long gone, and the streets were back to looking grey and dismal. He wondered when it would snow again. 

_Not that I want it to be flurrying all the time. It’s cold enough as it is, and it would make it hell to get anywhere. I’m sure I’ll see enough of the stuff in November and December._

Stephen warmed up with a few scales before jumping back into the Brahms sonata he had auditioned with. Fury usually sent them the pieces they were playing ahead of time so they could look at them, but he hadn’t done so yet. Since the first practice was later that day, Stephen assumed he wanted to see them do some sight-reading. It was fine by him. 

His audition had been fine. It hadn’t gone wrong in any way. 

_But it wasn’t good enough, was it?_

Stephen played through the first section of the sonata, but stopped once he was finished with that. He was missing something. His sound was missing something, but he couldn’t figure out what. Slowing down his pace didn’t help him pick out what he was failing to add. Neither did going at it in chunks. 

_I’ve never noticed this before. Am I just doubting myself because I didn’t get first chair, or is there really something wrong with the way I played this piece?_

He played the first section three more times before he let out a groan and set his violin down. Frustration was making him tighten up, and that never helped your sound. 

_I should take a break._

Giving his violin an apologetic look, he sat down on his couch. The paperback he was three-quarters of the way through sat on the coffee table in front of him, but he ignored it. On an impulse, he grabbed the remote and turned on his TV. It was a small, boxy thing that he rarely used. He would watch the news when he had the chance, but that was about it.

Flipping through the channels he could get, he remembered why he never watched television. A program about people who were addicted to eating inedible things transitioned into a daytime talk show where a group of middle-aged hosts were beating on a pinata in the shape of Liam Neeson. Stephen was considering turning it off and opening up the book when he switched the channel and saw Stark.

He froze, and then caught how he had frozen. It irritated him that Stark could elicit a reaction like that out of him. Curious about why the man was on TV, Stephen unmuted it.

“...significant donation to the Children’s Arts Foundation of Greater New York. It can be easy to forget it with all of his antics, but Tony Stark is quite the philanthropist. Just last year, he donated a total sum of two hundred and forty million dollars to various charities. He’s expressed support for a variety of causes, but his most recent passion seems to be arts education for youth.”

The feed cut back to the studio, where two news anchors sat behind an overly sleek desk. They looked a little bored, probably because they had been saddled with the four o’clock news update and not the nightly news. “That’s wonderful, Janet.” The anchor on the right said. “We were unable to reach Mr. Stark for a specific comment on this most recent donation, but Stark Industries informed us that he is always happy to do his part in-”

Stephen turned the TV off again.

_What a show-off._

He knew that the thought was irrational, especially with the good that Stark’s money would do, but something about it felt performative. 

_I doubt he gives a damn about any of that charity. Some PR person told him it would be good for his image, and he signed off on it._

He looked at his violin. 

_I should practice. I’ll forget all about him. I can be cordial to him as my stand partner, but that’s as far as I have to go._

Stephen smirked to himself. 

_Who knows? Maybe he isn’t all that good and Fury gave him the seat as a fluke. If that’s true, I might not even make the effort to be nice. If he’s going to be a burden to the ensemble, he isn’t worth my time._

***

When Stephen strolled into the ready room where everyone deposited their belongings and instrument cases before practice, he was glad to see some familiar faces. He wasn’t close enough with any of them to stay in contact outside of the orchestra, but he held great respect for a few of them and casually liked even more of them.

He set his violin case down and was shedding his coat when Natasha sidled over to him. He saw her approaching, and tried not to tense up at all. It was pretty probable that she was about to needle him about Stark taking his spot. 

“Hello, Stephen.”

“Natasha. It’s good to see you again.”

She gave him a polite smile. “Same here. You know, I think I saw an article about your work in the Times recently. Something about the optimal tissue sealants for neurosurgery?”

“That was me.” He nodded. “I’m surprised they ended up publishing it. I never paid attention to whether they did. Even if it was stuck in the back, it seemed a little uninspiring for the science and technology section.”

“Now, don’t undersell your work.”

“I would never dream of it.” Stephen said. “And you? What did you get up to over the summer?” Natasha was notoriously cagey about all aspects of her life, and the most Stephen had ever gotten out of her was that she had a job in information. 

“Nothing too exciting. I was out of the country for most of that time.”

“Do tell.”

“I had to travel for work, and it took me to a few countries in Europe. Those were fine, but I went to Northern Africa next, and I enjoyed that more.”

“I expect you didn’t bring your cello?” Stephen asked the question innocently, but Natasha’s shift in stance might have meant that she took it as an accusation of little practice.

“I travel light, so no. Although, I was able to get my hands on a finely-made one for a few days in this little town in Germany. I played for the townspeople, and by the time I left, they were nearly eating out of my hand.”

“I’m sure they were.” Stephen responded. Natasha had a way about her that could sway people, but it seemed that most of what she put forward was carefully selected to be presented to others. 

_I thought she would have brought up Stark by now. Maybe I was wrong. Well, I don’t mind. The less I have to talk about him or think about him, the better._

“Hey, man! I heard Tony Stark took your spot.” Clint Barton came up out of nowhere, speaking with none of the eloquence that Natasha possessed. Stephen could see her look of irritation at the man. She and Clint were an odd pair of friends. Where Natasha was reserved and calculating, Clint usually spoke before he thought. That didn’t cast any aspersions on his intelligence, though. He was a phenomenal cello player, and if not for Natasha, he would have been the best in the group. 

Stephen hoped that the smile on his face didn’t look too much like a grimace as he said, “Yes, he did. You could imagine my surprise when I found out.”

“I don’t even know why he wanted to join.” Clint went on. “I mean, there’s got to be an ensemble for really rich guys, right?” He gestured to one of the pipes going up the wall, which looked older than all of them. “This seems below his pay-grade.”

“We’re not getting paid.” Stephen replied.

“It’s an expression.” Clint moved his gaze to Natasha. Stephen doubted they had gone as long without contact, he was fairly sure they talked outside of practices. “I was wondering when I would see you. Did you bring me anything back from Egypt? A cursed amulet or something?”

“Why would I bring you anything?”

“Obviously because we’re the best of friends, Tash’. I take it that means you didn’t get around to living your Lara Croft fantasy over there? Oh, did you see any camels? They have camels in Egypt, don’t they?”

Natasha sighed, exasperated. “Yes. They do. Somehow, even though I haven’t seen you in months, I think I’m already tired of you.”

“Most people do tend to say they can only handle me in small quantities. Probably because I’m too awesome.” He turned back to Stephen. “You must be pretty mad about Stark.”

_It’s probably pointless to say I don’t care. Even someone who didn’t know me well would be able to see through that in an instant._

“I was upset to see that I wasn’t first chair, yes.” Stephen admitted. “But if Fury thinks that he’s the one who should lead, then I won’t argue with him.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Clint said. “I argued with him plenty through email after I found out this one here beat me again.”

Natasha stared at Clint. “Have you ever considered that fighting with our director about your placement might be the problem? He doesn’t like it when people try him.”

“That’s not it.” Clint shook his head. “Besides, the tenacity is part of my charm. I’m the perennial underdog, which is why it’s going to be so much greater when I do kick your ass.”

“I think you mean, ‘if’ you ever kick her ass.” Stephen added, restraining a laugh. Clint’s overconfidence was as endearing as it was annoying.

“Hey, you’re the last person who should be telling me I couldn’t get first chair.” Clint held up a finger. “We all thought you were untouchable too, until now.”

_I’m going to be hearing that a lot tonight, aren’t I?_

More people rolled in as the minutes ticked by before the start of practice, and the sounds of tuning and bows sliding over strings filled the room. People chatted with one another and caught up with their friends. After Natasha and Clint had gone off, Stephen had been approached by a man who he had yet to meet. 

“Stephen Strange?” The accent was hard to place, but Stephen was intrigued. 

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I am T’Challa.” Next to the man stood a younger woman, who looked like she had been dragged along to talk to Stephen. “This is my sister Shuri.”

“Wonderful to meet you.” Stephen nodded, and shook T’Challa’s hand. When he tried to do the same with Shuri, she offered him a fist bump instead. He gave her one, albeit reluctantly. “You’re both violins, correct?”

Shuri nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that you were involved in this orchestra.” T’Challa said. “Shuri and I have been looking for one that we could join together, and this seemed the perfect fit.”

“Correction.” Shuri pointed at her brother. “He was looking for one for the both of us. I would be happy to play for people on the street, but he’s intent on this as a sort of family bonding activity.”

Stephen laughed. “Are either of you professional musicians, then?”

T’Challa shook his head. “I work in international affairs, but I was familiar with your work. In fact, one of the procedures you developed helped my father a great deal in a time of need recently.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Stephen said honestly. Hearing that he had helped people always lifted his spirits. It was good to know that his work was having an impact.

“I’m in technology.” Shuri told him. “No offense intended, but I was a bit more excited about meeting Tony Stark. Do you know him well?”

_That was insulting, but she didn’t mean it to be._

“Not well. I’ve seen him at auditions, but I wouldn’t be able to introduce you.” Stephen answered. “I’m sure you’ll get the chance to speak with him yourself, if he ever shows up.”

The clock on the wall said that it was about five minutes until their practice was scheduled to start, and the billionaire was nowhere to be seen. 

“Both Tony Stark and Stephen Strange in one ensemble,” T’Challa chuckled. “I think that alone should drive up ticket sales for our performances.”

“We’ll see about that.” Stephen smiled tightly. 

They talked for a few minutes longer about their respective histories with violin, before it was time to move out onto the stage. Stephen let the others trickle out before him. He was used to being one of the last to go out on stage, as he would always play an A for the rest of the group to tune to.

_That’s not my job anymore._ He realized with some sadness. _Or rather, it won’t be if Stark ever shows up._

It was six-fifty nine by the time Stephen forced himself to leave the ready room for the stage. As he was walking out the door, he was slammed into by a person that had come hurtling from the other direction. Thankfully, he had a good grip on his violin and his bow, but he still was pushed back and landed on his behind. 

He knew who the culprit was without even looking up.

_Stark._

“Shit, my bad. I didn’t see you there. Here, let me help you up.”

Stephen ignored the extended hand and pulled himself up. “You’re late.”

“Technically, I’m early. It’s a minute before seven.”

Looking up at the clock, Stephen shook his head. “Nope. It’s seven. You’re late.”

“Damn.” Stark sighed. “Well, I’d better get to it then. If I can make it out there before seven oh one, maybe I’ll count as being on time.”

“Semantics.”

Stephen watched as Stark frantically pulled out his violin and put an obscene amount of rosin on his bow. With a quick strum, he must have decided he wasn’t too out of tune, because he was headed back for the door. 

“How’ve you been, Doc?”

_Better since I didn’t have to see you._

“Since Saturday? Fine.” Stephen begrudgingly said back. 

“Cool. Hey, I really didn’t mean anything by that comment back then. I sort of assumed you would know it was a joke, but it’s no big deal. I’m fine with being the funny one out of the two of us.”

“As our orchestra isn’t a comedy show, I don’t see how that would matter.”

“It totally matters! Are you kidding? You’re the tall, dark and handsome one, and I’m the funny one who everyone likes. It’s our dynamic.”

_Tall, dark and handsome?_ Stephen ignored how his mind went blank after Stark’s comment and tried to pick up on the thread of the conversation. They were nearing the stage now, so he wouldn’t have to converse for much longer anyway. 

“We don’t have a dynamic.”

“Of course we do. We’re stand partners. That counts as being a duo.” Stark breathed in through his nose. “Oop, and it looks like we’re stand partners who are getting a dirty look from our conductor.”

Stephen stared at the floor as he walked to his seat, knowing that his face must have been bright red. He’d never been late before, and now here he was walking in late with Tony Stark. He almost sat in his usual seat, but he caught himself and went one to the left. 

_That’ll take some getting used to._

Fury was going through some basic announcements for newcomers and mentioning details about the season, but Stephen ignored him. The music on their stand was duplicated, so they could each have a copy. Stephen took one of each piece off the stand and checked out what Fury had picked out.

_Yep. Bach. Just like I thought._

He glanced to the side when he thought he felt Stark looking at him, but as soon as he turned his head, Stark was staring at Fury. Maybe he had been imagining it. He let out a small breath.

_I wish we could just start playing. Then, maybe things will feel more normal._

It took four measures of the piece Fury had wanted to start with for Stephen to realize that things weren’t going to feel normal to him again. Stark was skilled, and he could tell that much just from sitting next to him. It burned to see the easy perfection coming from the man, especially with how hard Stephen had worked to be good at what he did.

Stephen’s old stand partner had been an elderly woman named Linda. She was a sweet woman and they had gotten along well. She had retired from the MPO at the end of the last season and they had all bid her a fond goodbye. Stephen had respected her skill and seniority.

_Plus, she would always defer to me._

Though playing his instrument was less about individuality and more about conforming to the group sound, Stephen believed in were cues between people that indicated leaders and followers. Leaders went for things, and followers waited to see if they were safe. He had been used to being the leader with Linda as his follower, but Stark was throwing him off. He found himself second-guessing nearly everything he did. He even missed an easy accidental.

_Please tell me he didn’t notice that._

Another sign that Stephen was slipping into the role of the follower was that he was more worried about Stark noticing his slip-ups than Fury. That didn’t feel good.

The time passed fairly quickly despite all of Stephen’s inner turmoil, and soon enough everyone was headed back to the ready room to pack up and leave. Right as Fury had stepped off his podium and ended the practice, everyone had moved to Stark. They all tried to act subtle about it, but it was clear how much they all wanted to speak to him. 

_They can have him._

Stephen ignored Stark’s little crowd of admirers until he heard Thor boom something about them all going out for mead. It was then that he remembered the strange tradition he would usually engage in with the others. 

When he had first joined the MPO, no one had quite known what to make of him. He was quiet, and could be intimidating if you didn’t try hard enough to get to know him. The people there were friendly, however, and it wasn’t long before he was getting asked to go out for drinks with the rest of them at every rehearsal that fell near the end of the week. 

Stephen wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he had declined the first few times due to his work schedule or general exhaustion. By the fourth or fifth time they asked him, it was almost a reflex to say no. But they kept asking. It became something of a joke with everyone, how he would never join them. 

He never minded, because it felt like he was laughing with them. He knew they understood that he wasn’t trying to be rude. Clint had once remarked that, “Maybe the reason why Stephen won’t come out with us is because we’re too tame for him. He’s probably a secret party animal with a bunch of cocaine hidden in little baggies in his case.” And they had all laughed. 

As soon as he heard Thor mention going out together, he became alert and waited for his customary invitation. Was anyone going to break away from Stark’s group and ask him to come? He found that he desperately wanted them to.

_I shouldn’t care about this. It’s pathetic. I don’t even want to go that much._

He slowed the pace at which he was packing up his instrument and dawdled a bit, but it was no use. Stark led the people around him out the door like some kind of messiah, headed for a promised land of cheap beer and stained glasses. No one made the effort to see if he wanted to tag along. His heart fell. 

_I had work tomorrow, so I couldn’t have gone, but it’s not about that. It’s about how they didn’t waste the time on me. They chose him instead._

It felt so unfair that the five years of hard work and goodwill Stephen had built up could be trumped by a rich man with a terrible sense of humor.

_It isn’t just that, though. He plays better than I do._

Stephen sighed. Cooking the ingredients he had bought earlier sounded like too much work now. He would probably just heat up one of the one-person meals he had in his freezer and then go to bed. Once he had everything, he made for the door.

“Um, wait! Excuse me!”

He glanced behind him and saw a nervous-looking kid who was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah?” He asked.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m Peter Parker. I’m a violin player too, if you didn’t notice. Uh, my aunt says that she isn’t going to be able to get here like she thought she was, and I spent the last of my money on a churro earlier, and my MetroCard is empty and-”

Stephen frowned. “How old are you?” He hadn’t noticed the kid before, but now that he saw him he was surprised at his age. Shuri had seemed young for the ensemble, but Peter looked like he was fresh out of the tenth grade.

“Fifteen, but I’m technically sixteen because my birthday is next month.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“It’s like rounding. I’m rounding up.”

“I’m surprised that Fury let you in.” There weren’t any rules about age as far as Stephen knew, but admitting a high schooler in was odd.

“He said my audition was impressive.” Peter shrugged. “I guess I got lucky.”

“You’re thinking of a career in music, then?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I want to be a scientist. I figure that’s the reason I’m so good at the violin, though. Science and math go together, and so do math and music.”

“Fair point.” Stephen said. “Now run this by me again. Your aunt isn’t coming, and you don’t have any money to pay your way home?”

Peter nodded.

“Do you need me to lend you a few bucks?” Stephen didn’t have the heart to act annoyed with the kid. He seemed like he had been terrified to even speak to him.

“Really? You would? Thank you so much!” Peter grinned. “I know who you are, obviously. I saw you when you performed the Four Seasons a while back and I’ve seen you in some science journals.”

“Did you like the performance?” Stephen remembered that he had been sick during it with a terrible cold. He hadn’t wanted to miss it, so he’d suffered through. 

“Yeah, it was cool. You can’t go wrong with Vivaldi.” 

Stephen fished out a five dollar bill and held it out to Peter. “Here. Is this good?”

“More than good.” Peter took the bill. “I promise I’ll pay you back, Mr. Strange. Seriously, I really appreciate it.”

When they both left the building, Stephen realized that they were headed the same way and offered to walk Peter to the subway stop he was going to use. It was easy to see that Peter had a lot to say, so Stephen mostly just let him talk.

“...and then he told me that I couldn’t attach a saw because it would violate the rules of the competition! Ned and I were so mad about it, but it wasn’t like we could tell them what to do. They run the robotics meet for a reason.”

“You’ll probably be running it someday.” Stephen put in.

Peter frowned. “I hope not. I’d rather be doing something kind of like Mr. Stark. Man, I still can’t believe he was right there! I wanted to go up and say hi, but I got nervous. I didn’t want to bother him.”

“You’re a fan of Stark’s?”

“Who isn’t? He’s so awesome. Did you see that article he wrote about the possibilities for wormhole travel in Time Magazine?” Peter’s tone was reverent. It was clear to Stephen that the kid held a lot of respect for Stark.

_Undeserved respect. If he knew how rude and self-centered Stark could be he would be disappointed._

Stephen was about to say something along those lines, when Wong’s voice ran through his head. 

_Don’t be an asshole. That’s kind of hard to accomplish when I’m around Stark, but I don’t have to ruin this kid’s beliefs about him. I’ll be nice._

“I didn’t read it, actually. Tell me about it.” Stephen said.

Peter seemed elated by that, and spent the rest of their walk relaying the points of the article in precise detail. It wasn’t hard to see that he was extremely smart, and Stephen made a mental note to try and hear him play individually some time. He had no doubt Peter was as talented at violin as he was with difficult science concepts. 

They waved goodbye and Peter descended into the subway tunnel. Stephen realized that most of the negative emotions he’d been feeling from being ignored after rehearsal had faded, and he was glad for that. He decided to put Stark out of his mind for the time being, and focus on what was directly in front of him.

_Today wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. I’m on the clock for most of tomorrow, so I won’t even have to think about Stark at all._

This wasn’t true. From then on, whether Stephen liked it or not, it seemed that thoughts of Tony Stark wouldn’t leave him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was hard for me to fit in all the character introductions I wanted to in this chapter, so expect more of that in the next one. also expect more of Stephen having a crisis over not being the best at something. he's silly that way.


	3. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter ran a bit long, but I still feel like I wasn't able to fit in everything that I wanted to. :/ still, I hope I was able to introduce some more of the characters in a good way. as i'm not sure how long this story will be in total, I'm not positive what role they'll all play, but I like having them in it on the side anyways.
> 
> warnings for alcohol and vague mentions of other drug use

The rest of October flew by quickly. Stephen immersed himself in his work even more than he already did, which was easy with the multiple things he was juggling. Along with his normal surgery schedule and occasional emergency call-ins, he was preparing the proposal for his next research project. 

_Hopefully this one ends up being more eye-catching than the tissue sealants._

Stephen wasn’t in the medical field for praise or recognition, but he held a fierce pride for his own accomplishments and renown. Researching something that would get people talking and blaze a new trail forward would always be preferable to something duller. His latest project was focused around optimizing the healing process for nerve damage. If he could succeed in proving that certain treatments heightened levels of axon regeneration in elderly patients, he could revolutionize how nerve damage was repaired.

But first, he had to get the money for it. That was always the first hurdle for big ideas to get past, and it was often the one that many big ideas died because of. Despite his fame in medicine, Stephen had lost several promising projects to a lack of funding in the past. He was determined not to let it happen again.

_I’m sure Stark never has to worry about this when he’s building the latest StarkPhone or useless wireless gadget. Not only does he have enough money to buy a small country, he has an army of idiotic consumers so loyal to his brand that they’ll buy anything. He calls himself a scientist, but I doubt he does much more than write lofty theoretical articles in TIME Magazine. His kind of science runs in the same vein as Neil Degrasse Tyson’s. Basic enough for people to understand but complex enough to fascinate them._

There was a place for this kind of science, and Stephen was never one to look down upon getting the public interested, but it seemed cheap. Like Stark’s charitable donations, his genius appeared performative to Stephen. A show that the man put on to get more attention. 

Even though he was busy, he forced himself to find time to practice his violin. The initial feeling of uncertainty that Stephen had experienced when playing next to Stark faded somewhat over the weeks, but it didn’t disappear completely. He enjoyed the pieces they were playing, and there wasn’t anything overly difficult for him, but it was like sitting next to Stark threw him off. 

For example, one phrase in the Dvořák piece “Serenade for Strings” had tripped him up at first, and he had worked through it in practice. Stephen’s practice philosophy was that for every time he played something wrong, he would play it right five times. It ensured he didn’t repeat any mistakes. He did this for the Dvořák, and everything was fine until he played it next to Stark. He messed it up and cursed himself inwardly. 

Though he devoted a good deal of time to that specific section before the next rehearsal, he flubbed it again. He hadn’t been able to look anywhere but the music stand after the piece ended, sure that Stark was giving some kind of smirk. 

Thankfully, he got it the third time. It was odd that this was the rehearsal he succeeded at, considering he was running on about four hours of sleep. Maybe more exhaustion meant less room to second-guess himself. After it ended, Stephen was ready to make a beeline for the ready room and then his apartment so he could get some rest, but it seemed Fury had other plans. 

“Stark. Strange.” He looked down at them from his podium. “Can you two hang back?”

Stephen’s stomach flipped. _What could he possibly have to say to the both of us?_

They got a few curious glances from stragglers still leaving the stage, but soon enough, it was just the three of them. Fury’s face was impossible to glean anything from, but that was normal. Stephen ignored the questioning look he got from Stark. 

“Thanks, you two. I was going to mention this earlier when we were playing the concerto, but it slipped my mind. I’m aware that it would be customary for you to play the solo,” Fury nodded at Stark, “and you’ve been doing well at it so far. However, I think I could also have Stephen play it. I don’t put much stock in seniority, but he does have that, and I have no doubt he could perform it nicely.”

Stark spoke in a joking tone. “Am I being fired?” 

_Wait, Fury is giving me the solo?_

“No.” Fury shook his head. “Rather, I’m letting you know that both of you are in the running to play it. When we get closer to our first performance, I’ll let you know who I’ve chosen.”

“How unusual.” Stephen said.

“It is unusual.” Fury agreed, and gave the two of them an appraising look. “But something tells me I’m going to get the best performances from you both if you’re fighting each other for it.”

There was a short silence, and for a second Stephen’s weariness was replaced by a shot of excitement. 

_I didn’t expect this. It’s quite draconian of Fury, but he might be right. I’m going to outplay Stark for that solo if it kills me. I know I can do it better than he can._

“Of course, if either of you wants to step back, I wouldn’t stop you.” Fury said. His voice was the closest to amusement that Stephen had ever heard it. 

Stark looked at Stephen. “Hey, I’ve already been playing it. No way am I giving it up without at least making him work for it.”

“Oh, I’ll work for it.” Stephen said. “And I’ll beat you out for it.”

“Great.” Fury clapped his hands and stepped down from his podium. “From now on, I want you two to alternate practices. Stark played it today, so Strange would be next time if we end up looking at it. Good luck to you both.

After Fury left, Stephen stood in place for a moment. 

_It might have been stupid to put another thing on plate to worry about, but I couldn’t say no to that. Any other year that solo would have been mine. I want to play it. I’ll earn it._

“Hey, are you alright?” 

“Hm?” Stephen noticed that Stark was staring at him.

“You looked...off. I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“I was just thinking.” Stephen said defensively. 

“Like I said, nevermind. Has he ever done this before?” Stark asked.

“Done what?”

“Pitted people against each other for a solo.”

“Not to my knowledge.” They started walking back to the ready room. Stephen fell into step with Stark easily, but wished he was speaking with someone else. Anyone else.

“So, do you think you can beat me?” The question was casual, like everything else that came out of Stark’s mouth. 

Stephen bristled. “I know I can.”

“We’ll see.” Stark replied. The way his mouth angled up at its edges told Stephen that he was trying not to laugh at him. “Oh, totally different subject, but are you free on Halloween?”

Irritation turned to confusion. _What is he talking about?_

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well, I do this annual party every year. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds met at the one I held in twenty-eleven and now they’re married. I get other celebrities, some brainiacs, and a handful of random people I meet to spice it up.”

The invitation caught Stephen off guard. From what he’d thought, he and Stark were tense acquaintances at best. It seemed like a leap to be invited to any event that Stark was throwing. “And which of those categories would I fit into?”

Stark shrugged. “You could probably swing all three, actually. I’m going to invite the rest of the ensemble, so don’t worry about not knowing anyone.”

_He’s being overly nice, especially given the fact that we’re directly competing for the solo now._ Stephen ran through his schedule in his head. He couldn’t believe that he was considering attending the party at all. “I wouldn’t mind coming, but if I remember correctly, I have to work that day.”

“Even into the night?” If Stephen hadn’t known better, he would have taken Stark’s tone as disappointment. 

“Yes. My apologies.” A tiny part of him felt bad at the way Stark’s face fell for a split second.

But then Stark snorted and the momentary lapse of composure was gone. “That’s a weirdly formal way to say sorry. You sound like an old woman in an English period drama.” 

Stephen frowned, regretting that he had felt bad. Stark didn’t need his sympathy. “I take it back, then.”

“I’m just kidding around, Doc.” 

_Does he ever do anything else? Is there a serious setting on this man?_

Stark continued. “I’ll probably still send you out an invite in case anything changes. Not to try and sway you, but I had a two story tall chocolate fountain commissioned for this year. That’s a once in a lifetime kind of thing.”

“Yes,” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that would be a perfectly valid excuse to miss the literal brain surgery I have to perform.”

“Was that a joke or something approaching humor?” Stark grinned. “I was starting to think you didn’t do that.”

Stephen ignored him, as they were entering the ready room. Soon, he would be home and able to go to bed. That was all he could focus on. As he packed up his things to go, Stark made the announcement about the ensemble all having an open invitation to his Halloween party. Everyone seemed excited by this, and Stark left with a good-sized group of people surrounding him as usual. 

“Hey, Mr. Strange!” Peter intercepted him as he was headed for the door. “I have the money I owe you. Sorry I couldn’t get it to you any earlier.”

Stephen shook his head. “You can call me Stephen if you want, Peter. And you don’t really have to pay me back. It wasn’t that much.”

“I’ll feel bad if I don’t.”

Stephen took the money. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Are you headed the same way as before? I figured I could walk with you again! I’m probably going to be taking the subway after practice most days now.” Peter’s tone was bright enough to make up for how tired Stephen was.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

As soon as they were on their way, Peter asked, “Are you going to Mr. Stark’s party?”

Stephen shook his head. “Are you?”

Peter crossed his arms. “Probably not. My aunt is usually pretty cool about stuff, but I don’t think she would let me go to a party like that.”

“That’s probably smart of her.” Stephen could only imagine the amount of alcohol that would be consumed at the event, and he guessed that some other drugs might also be in circulation. 

“Yeah, but it still sucks. If I could tell the other people at my school that I went to one of Tony Stark’s parties, I’m pretty sure I would be, like, automatically cool.”

“You aren’t already?” For some reason, it hadn’t even occurred to Stephen that Peter wouldn’t be popular with people his own age. It seemed like he would have more friends than he knew what to do with.

Peter laughed and looked at Stephen. “Are you serious? Oh, you are.”

“It’s been a while since I was in high school.” _It’s been a while since I’ve even spared it a thought._ “Enlighten me. What makes someone cool now?”

“It’s not like a list of criteria.” Peter struggled to come up with an explanation. “Some people just have this mysterious aura about them that makes them cool.”

“Am I cool?” Stephen asked, letting a small smile grace his face.

Peter was quiet for a few seconds. “Am I allowed to answer honestly?”

“Of course.”

He still looked nervous, but he continued. “You’re cool in an old person sort of way, and I think you’re cool, but I don’t think you would count as cool if you went to my school.”

_Old person?_ “I’m forty-two. I’m not old.”

Peter nodded, narrowing his eyes. “Forty-two is old, I think.”

Ignoring the onslaught of existential thoughts that came with being assigned the label of ‘old’, Stephen asked, “Why wouldn’t I be cool if I went to your school?”

“You’re too quiet. I think that the formula for being cool is attracting the maximum amount of attention while looking like you’re putting in the minimum amount of effort.” Peter said. “You don’t really try for the first part.”

_He’s clearly given this some thought._ Stephen liked listening to Peter talk. It was comforting to remember a world where things were as simple as who was cool and who wasn’t. 

With a dry voice, Stephen asked, “I assume Stark would be at the top of your scale for coolness, then, wouldn’t he?”

“Uh, yeah, probably.” Peter agreed. “If we’re talking about people that I know then he definitely is. If we’re talking about famous people, I would say it’s either him or Keanu Reeves. Since I know him and he’s also a famous person, it’s harder to place him.”

“No, I get it.” 

“Don’t feel bad about not being cool, though. May always tells me that it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“May?”

“My aunt.”

“Ah.” Stephen nodded. “She sounds like a wise woman.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, mostly. I’m going to try asking her about the party even though I know she’ll say no. That’s probably wise of her, huh?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Why aren’t you going?”

“I have to work.” Stephen said. 

Peter groaned. “That’s the worst.” Then, he brightened up, a curious expression on his face. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Stephen couldn’t tell what question was coming. The teen’s mind could jump from one thing to the next in an instant.

“Were you scared the first time you cut into someone’s brain?” Before Stephen could answer, Peter went on. “Oh, wait. Is it legal for you to tell me about that? Is there a confidentiality agreement?”  
“It’s fine as long as I don’t disclose patient information.” Stephen thought back to his first serious surgery. “I was a little nervous, but the operation wasn’t going to stop for my nerves. I had to trust my own knowledge and training. It went fine. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious. I can’t even imagine doing something like that. I feel like I would be too scared to mess it up somehow.”

“Sometimes you just have to force yourself to take risks,” Stephen heard his own words and hoped they didn’t sound condescending. He was trying to give Peter some advice that he could have used when he was the kid’s age. “The fear of something going wrong is usually worse than the actual consequences of it happening.”

“Even in brain surgery?”  
“Maybe not there.” Stephen conceded. “But you know what I mean. If you live your life always worrying about the worst that could happen, you’ll miss out on the best stuff.”

“You know what, Mr. Strange?”

“It’s Stephen. And what?”

“That sounded a lot like advice an old person would give. Uh, no offense.” Peter had a serious look on his face as he said it, as if he was diagnosing Stephen with some kind of terminal illness. Stephen couldn’t help but laugh. Peter was startled at first, but eventually laughed along with him. 

After they said their farewells, Stephen shook his head and chuckled to himself again.

_I’ve had my fair share of hard times, but nothing can make you feel quite as horrible as a teenager telling you that they think you’re old._

***

In the days leading up to Halloween, Stephen didn’t give much thought to the party. As he wouldn’t be attending, it didn’t really concern him. That changed when the surgery he’d had scheduled moved up a few days due to complications with the patient. The surgery went well, which Stephen was glad about, but it left him free on the night of the thirty-first. It was suddenly much harder to rationalize not going to the party. 

Stark had sent the invitation to Stephen’s mailbox as promised, though Stephen had no idea how he’d gotten his address. He guessed that a big tech mogul like Stark wouldn’t have trouble finding that kind of personal information. It bothered him, but the invitation annoyed him even more. 

He read it aloud with an air of disgust as he sorted through the rest of his mail. “You’re invited to Tony Stark’s sixteenth annual Halloween soirée. Come dressed in the wildest costume you can think of, or even better, come dressed in nothing at all. Anything goes.” Stephen noticed the asterisk next to the last statement and squinted to read the fine print at the bottom of the card. “Except large exotic animals. It took forever for me to get the tiger shit out of my carpet from last year.”

The time and location was at the bottom. “Seven p.m. on the top floor of Stark Tower.”

Stephen had two options, and he couldn’t decide between them. He could stay home and watch old Vincent Price films while finishing the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream that he had in his freezer, or he could go to the party. 

_No one would know if I skipped out on it._ He reasoned. _Besides, a penthouse full of drunk and high partygoers isn’t appealing to me in the slightest. That ice cream is calling my name._

But at the same time, something in his gut was pushing him to go. It could have been the basic curiosity of wanting to see what the party would be like, or it could have been something else. Sometime in the afternoon on the day of, he decided that he would attend. 

_If it’s awful, I can always just leave. Besides, there’ll be people from the ensemble there. I might even meet someone who I could have a stimulating conversation with if Stark’s claim of ‘brainiacs’ being invited was true._

He didn’t have a costume and had no intention of making a fool of himself, so he went dressed normally. Rather than take the subway, he opted to walk there. Thankfully, the vicious winter that was approaching had been put on pause for the night. It was a balmy sixty-five degrees, so Stephen didn’t even have to take his heavier coat. 

When he reached the entrance to Stark Tower, he considered turning around and going home again before his conversation with Peter passed through his mind. 

_I’ll never know what I missed out on if I go home now. There’s no reason not to go. I need to stop getting nervous about this like I’m an awkward teen._ Stephen sighed and forced himself to enter the building. 

The lobby was decked out in a variety of eye-catching decorations, each of which Stephen found more tacky than the last. He was thankful for the fact that the space was mostly empty when an animatronic witch he hadn’t seen let out a screech and made him flinch on his way to the elevator.

_Wait, where is everyone? Isn’t this supposed to be the hottest party in the city?_ Stephen checked his watch. _It’s six-forty four. I’m a little early, but there should be some people here in the lobby. Hm, weird._

The card Stark had sent him was also his key to use the elevator to get up to the top floor. He held it in front of the sensor and heard a beep, then the elevator started rising.

 _It wouldn’t be hard for any person to get in off the street and hitch a ride up with someone who was invited._ Stephen thought. _Not the best for security, but Stark doesn’t seem to care much. The more the merrier, I suppose._

When the elevator door slid open, Stephen made note of the sound in the penthouse. Or rather, the absence of it. Other than the distant noise of rock music, it was silent. He couldn’t see any party guests and it was clear that no one was swinging from any chandeliers as he had anticipated. 

He glanced down at the invitation. It was nearly seven and he was in the right place. Had Stark sent him to the wrong place on purpose? No, that didn’t make any sense. Before Stephen could backtrack to the elevator to leave, he heard a loud thump to his left. 

“Shit!” It was unmistakably Stark. “Oh, damn. That one hurt.”

“Stark?” Stephen looked to see him sprawled out on the floor. 

“Doc!” Stark looked up. “You’re early.”

“No I’m not. It’s seven. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I hadn’t even put my pants on when I got the notification someone was on their way up, so I was in kind of a hurry.”

Stephen furrowed his brow. _That seems a bit much even for him. If the party starts at seven, why would he wait so long to get ready?_

Tony read Stephen’s expression. “It’s an unspoken rule that no one comes at the time it says on the invitation. It’s fashionable to be late. Don’t you know that?”  
Stephen finally took in the outfit Stark was wearing and couldn’t stop himself from scoffing, “Maybe not, but I know something that isn’t fashionable. What the hell have you got on?”

“You seriously can’t tell who I am?” Tony stood up. 

_White suit, fake white beard, he even has a fake white wig._ “Colonel Sanders, correct?”

“Good. If you told me that you didn’t know what Kentucky Fried Chicken was I might have had to uninvite you.” Tony wrinkled his nose. “Wait, who are you supposed to be?”

Stephen suddenly wished he had worn a costume. “I didn’t have anything. I only found out that I would be free at all very recently.”

“Well, I’m honored that you decided to grace me with your presence.” He brushed himself off. “Come on, let’s go sit down. I can make us drinks while we wait for everyone else to show up.”

“Okay.” Stephen followed Stark while taking in the penthouse. It was what he would have expected from the richest man in the city, but that didn’t make it any less impressive. 

“Nice digs, right?” Stark grinned.

“Yes. It’s quite something.”

“I designed this place myself, but that’s probably pretty obvious.” Stark gestured at the bar. “I went all in on the stuff that really matters.” Floor to ceiling cabinets were filled with various kinds of alcohol and sleek stools were placed along the length of the bar. Stark slid behind the counter and spread his arms. “Pick your poison, Doc.”

Stephen rarely drank, so he took a second to answer. “Scotch is fine.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t care.” Stephen shrugged, hoping that others would arrive soon. Being alone with Stark felt dangerous for some reason. He was on edge of making any kind of mistakes, but he knew that was foolish. They weren’t even playing their instruments. What mistake could he possibly make?

“You can tell a lot about a man from their drink of choice.” Stark said, bending down to grab a tall bottle of scotch. 

“Really.” Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What can you tell me about myself, then?”

“You’re classy and you aren’t a heavy drinker.”

“I already knew that much.”

Stark smiled. “Were you expecting me to expose the most hidden depths of your soul or something? C’mon, I would need more to go on to do that.”

“More to go on?”

Stark slid the glass he had filled to Stephen. “I barely know you. Other than the fact that you’re scarily serious about taking my solo and you don’t seem to like me very much.”

Stephen ignored the second half. “It’s not your solo. We’re in competition for it.”

“Well, it was mine. Before Fury decided to throw us into the ring with each other.”

It was harder to argue with that. “So what, you want to get to know me?” Stephen asked. 

“Yeah. It’d be nice.” There was a raw kind of honesty in Stark’s tone, and it surprised Stephen. 

_I guess I have nothing else to do. It’s not like telling him a few meaningless things about myself will make him any more likely to beat me out for the solo. And it doesn’t mean that I have to stop being annoyed by everything he does._

“I don’t know where to start.” Stephen looked down into his glass. “Usually my strategy is to drone on about the most boring parts of my work until whoever is asking about me leaves me alone.”

Stark chuckled. “That’s pretty good. I might try that sometime when I want to get away from someone. Let’s start simple. Where are you from?”

“Here. The city.”

“Same here. Um…” Stark paused as he thought of another thing to ask. “Why did you join the MPO? Oh, also how long have you been playing?”

Stephen was relieved. This was an easy question to answer. “I couldn’t commit to any of the more serious orchestras, and the location was also a plus for me.”

“Do you live in the area?” Stark cut in before Stephen could finish.

“Yes, I’m in Greenwich Village.” He continued. “And as I was saying, I’ve been playing since I was in the sixth grade. That would be about thirty years or so by now.”

“Nice. Yeah, I started young too.” Stark frowned and looked off past Stephen, like he was remembering something he would have rather left buried. “I thought that my dad would be happy if I learned something like classical violin.”

“Was he?”

“He didn’t care much. I kept doing it because I ended up liking it.”

“That’s good.” Stephen took a swig of the scotch. “What made you pick it back up?”

“I needed a change.” Stark answered. “I remembered how much I loved playing, and I thought that might help with some of the other shit I’ve been dealing with recently. Being in an ensemble is great. I spent more time on solo stuff than I ever did in orchestras when I was younger.”

Stephen nodded. “We have a great group.”

“I have something else.” Stark put up a finger. “Another question, I mean. Where the hell did you get your violin? I can tell that it’s special just by looking at it. I bet it’s wonderful to play.”

Stephen was reluctant to divulge where he’d gotten his instrument. Images of Stark procuring one specially made in Nepal for himself flooded his mind. He also knew that was ridiculous, though. His violin wasn’t what made him a good player. “A place in Nepal called Kamar-Taj. I passed through when I was travelling by chance and found that they make some of the best violins in the world.”

“It’s always the places that are hidden away in the mountains.” Stark nodded. “How much did they charge you for one?”

“I did some consulting work for one of the elders there and they gave it to me as a parting gift.” Stephen told Stark. 

“You’re kidding. You got it for free? I paid half a million dollars for my instrument and I would say that yours produces a better sound. I’m a bit jealous.”

Finishing his scotch, Stephen tried not to sound smug, “Maybe try shopping around more next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh at the rich guy for spending egregious amounts of money.” Stark smiled. “It’s your turn.”

“What?”

“To ask me a question. I’m not sure if it counts as getting to know each other if I’m doing all the work.”

 _What on earth could I ask him? I’m drawing a blank._ Stephen found that he did want to know more about Stark. He was unexpectedly enjoying talking to the man.

“What’s your drink of choice? Apparently that’s an easy way to learn a few things.”

Stark glanced back down at the bottle of scotch on the bar as if he had forgotten it was there. The glass he had gotten out for himself was still empty. “Funnily enough, my go-to is single malt scotch.”

“That means that you’re...classy and not a heavy drinker? According to you, at least.” There was an aspect of skepticism in Stephen’s tone.

Stark poured himself some scotch. “Classy? No. Am I a heavy drinker? Depends. Maybe I need to re-think my system.”

“Or maybe it’s just impossible to understand a person with something as simple as a drink.” Stephen offered. 

“Eh, it’s still fun. It’s kind of like astrological signs.” Stark’s eyes lit up. “Wait, when’s your birthday?” 

“November eighteenth.”

“Holy shit, you’re a Scorpio? No wonder you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Stephen responded quickly. Then, he added, “You can’t really believe in zodiac signs. They don’t mean anything. Grouping people together by their birth month and saying they’re similar is nonsense.”

“Yeah. Fun nonsense. I’m a Gemini. Geminis and Scorpios are notoriously incompatible.”

Stephen gave Stark a wry look. “I can’t believe people are going around and calling you the mind of your generation, and all the while you’re thinking about astrology.”

“Even if it is all bullshit, it does fit.” Stark was pulling something up on his phone. “Like here. It says that Geminis and Scorpios will usually annoy each other senseless. Doesn’t that sound like us?”

“You are pretty annoying. Maybe there is something to all of it.”

Tony snorted, and Stephen caught himself staring at the man’s face. There was a sort of angular beauty to it that Stephen had never seen before. It was hard to make out under the Colonel Sanders costume, but he saw a glimpse of it. And it scared him. He moved his eyes back down to his empty glass. 

“Okay, I have something else. Why did you go into medicine?” Stark asked.

Stephen’s heart sunk. To anyone who didn’t know him well, it was an innocent question. A meaningless one. He could probably get away with giving Stark the stock answer he gave when he didn’t want to talk about his sister, but that didn’t feel right. He sighed. “My sister Donna drowned when I was young. I decided that I wanted to help people by being a doctor after that.”

When he looked back up to Stark, he recognized the expression on his face. It was the expression of someone who understood loss. Stark wasn’t going to give him the polite ‘sorry for your loss’ out of courtesy. 

“That’s...fucking awful.” Stark said. Stephen wished he had lied until Stark finished his thought. “But it’s good that you became a doctor because of it. I know that you’ve helped so many people.”

“It was a long time ago.” Stephen said evenly. His statement was a deflection. Losing his sister still hurt, but the wound was so old that it had scabbed over. He was able to think about it without driving himself to despair.

“That sort of thing never really fades though, does it?” Stark mused. He seemed to be about to continue, maybe to share something that had happened to him, when the elevator dinged. “Oh. That must be the first batch of people.” Stark’s eyes darted between the way to the elevator and Stephen. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be back.”

 _He wants to keep talking to me. Interesting._ “Don’t worry about it.” Stephen forced a smile. “It’s your party. You should make the rounds.”

Stark locked eyes with him. Stephen’s gripped his glass. “Yeah,” Stark tore his eyes away begrudgingly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

After the first guests arrived, the floodgates opened. The penthouse was packed within the next half-hour. Stephen waited at the bar for a while, even pouring himself another glass of scotch. No one tried to talk to him, which might have been because of the expression on his face. People often took it to be a negative emotion like anger or sadness, but really it was just how he looked when he was thinking. 

He got up from his seat when he noticed that a few people from the ensemble had come into his vicinity and went over to talk to them. He felt somewhat out of place in the sea of costumes, which ranged from extravagant to outfits that looked like they were scrounged from the bargain bin.

“Stephen! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve Rogers said. Next to Rogers was Bucky Barnes, also representing the viola section. In lieu of a costume, they wore matching shirts. Steve had one on that said ‘I’m with stupid’, and an arrow that happened to point at Bucky. Bucky’s read ‘I’m with stupider’ and pointed right back at Steve. 

Sam Wilson was also there, which made sense as he was close friends with Steve. He also had an understated costume, but Stephen could tell that it was meant to be Marty McFly by the orange life jacket he had over his shirt. 

Rounding out the group was someone slightly less familiar to Stephen, the new cellist Scott Lang. He wore a pink polo shirt with a Baskin Robbins logo on it and a blue apron. Stephen couldn’t tell if it was a reference to something or not.

“I didn’t expect to be here.” Stephen gave the rest of the group a friendly nod. “I had surgery canceled at the last minute and figured I’d come by.”

“That’s lucky.” Bucky said. “I was starting to think we’d never see you outside of the Lieber.”

“I’m a busy man.” Stephen responded. “I don’t have much free time.”

“I get it.” Bucky said. “Still, I feel like I’m seeing something that I shouldn’t. For years, every single person in the ensemble has wondered the same thing, and now I get to know the answer to that question.”

“And what question would that be?”

Bucky grinned. “What kind of drunk is Stephen Strange?”

“I wasn’t really planning on getting too-”

Bucky cut Stephen off. “Oh come on. Let loose a little. It’s a party.”

Stephen looked to the other men, who all seemed to be in agreement that he needed to get plastered for some reason. 

_Now I remember why I said I didn’t want to go out for drinks with them in the first place. But I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun. I don’t have to be in at the hospital until one tomorrow._

“Oh, fine.” He agreed. 

The next hour went by in a blur. Stephen spent the time speaking with the four men and getting more and more drunk. The noise levels in the penthouse were ear-splitting, and it got to the point where they were having to scream to hear each other over the din. Eventually, they migrated to a less crowded side area, choosing to sit around a round table by a large window.

Stephen was pretty tipsy after the number of drinks he’d had, and he knew that he would feel disgusting when he woke up the next morning. Nonetheless, he was having a good time. The other men were very entertaining and he was enjoying the opportunity to get to know Scott.

“This is some place Stark has here, huh?” Scott motioned to the room around them with his glass. “Kind of makes me want to rob him.”

They all stared at him.

“I was kidding!” He held up his hands. “Lighten up, you guys. If I did, I don’t even think he would notice. It would be like redistributing the wealth.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “There’s a difference between wealth redistribution and wanting to steal expensive stuff.”

“Maybe, but wealth distribution is such a nice way to put it.” Scott shrugged. “I don’t even understand how a person can get this rich.”

“It’s generational.” Sam said. “His dad was a weapons mogul and he inherited the company.”

“I thought he sold cell phones and stuff.” Scott squinted, confused. “You’re telling me that our concertmaster is selling weapons for people to kill each other with overseas?”

“I think his company stopped doing that a while ago.” Steve put in. “I read an article about it.”

“Thank God.” Scott let out a breath. “I’d feel pretty bad for going to a war criminal’s party. Although, free booze is free booze.”

“It’s still weird to me that he joined our ensemble.” Sam spoke. “Hey, Stephen, you’re competing with him for that solo, right?”  
Stephen nodded. “Fury seems to think that we’ll end up performing better if we have to fight each other for it.”

“I wonder if he’s going to try that with other people.” Steve said. “It doesn’t seem much like him. I hope he doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed. “You hope he doesn’t so you don’t have to worry about me taking anything from you, which we all know I would if I had the chance.”

“Shut up.” Steve punched Bucky in the arm, but there was no real weight behind it. “Personally, I don’t understand why Fury gave him your spot in the first place, Stephen. I think you were a better section leader than he is.”

“I don’t get it either, but who knows? Maybe it’s all part of some long-winded plan of his to make me work harder to get my spot back.” Stephen threw out. 

“If you were anyone else, I would agree with you.” Sam said. “But you’re already one of the best in the group. Why would he single you out for improvement?”

From the other room, they heard a whooping cry over the cacophony. Scott raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know about you guys, but I totally need to see what that just was. Besides, I’m kind of hungry. I might go see what food I can find to dip in that chocolate fountain.”

“I’ll go with you.” Sam volunteered, standing up. “Even though that fountain sounds like the most unsanitary thing ever, I have to admit that I’m intrigued.” The two walked off.

Stephen sat with Bucky and Steve for a few more minutes before excusing himself to find somewhere quieter. He felt like a bit of a third wheel when he was sitting with them due to their innate sense of closeness. He told them the truth, which was that his head was starting to throb, and made a quick exit. He knew that he’d overdone it.

_I should just go home. I stayed for longer than I thought that I would._

But something was holding him back. Rather than leave, he took the stairs to the upper part of the penthouse and went out onto the balcony. It was blissfully empty, with the only other people on it being a couple too engrossed in each other to even notice that he was there. 

The night air was cool on his skin, and he leaned against the railing while staring out at the lights of the city. As he was doing this, he realized why he didn’t want to leave.

_I wanted to find Stark again. It was like our conversation earlier was left unfinished. That’s funny. Before now, I don’t think I would have even wanted to talk to him at all. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought._

“Hey.” 

It was like Stephen’s thoughts of him had summoned him. He turned to Stark. “Hello.”

“I was wondering if you’d left, and then I saw you up here. I was serious when I said I would talk to you later.”

Stephen noticed the state of disarray that Stark’s costume was in. “What happened to Colonel Sanders?”

“He had a run-in with the chocolate fountain. Now I know what it feels like to be Augustus Gloop.” 

Stephen giggled. 

Stark’s face changed to a look of surprise. “You’re drunk.”

“That was the point of this party, wasn’t it?” Stephen crossed his arms.

“I mean, yeah.” Stark said. “I just didn’t expect you to drink that much.”

“Am I really that boring?” 

_The way everyone talks about me, it’s like they think I’m some heartless fun-hating monster. I’m fun. I do fun things._

“That’s not what I said. You’re just different from most people I know.” Stark said.

Stephen turned back to the lights of the city. “Is that a compliment?”

Stark moved to the railing next to him. He was close enough for Stephen to feel the heat radiating off of his body. “Yeah. It’s a good thing.” He breathed in. “You remember how we were talking earlier about, er, your sister?”

Stephen kept his eyes trained on the horizon. “Yes.”

“Sorry to bring it up again, I just wanted to say that I kind of get it. My parents died in a car crash when I was twenty-one. It’s not like I was a kid when it happened, but I still felt like one. Then it was on me to run the company and everything in my life changed. It’s hard to lose people.”

Stephen spoke before he could process his words. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” Stark said. His voice was soft. “I just felt like I wanted to.”

_This is odd. I definitely can’t say that I hate him anymore, but what good does that do me? Why is he so interested in being friends with me?_

They let the silence wash over them for a few minutes. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Stephen unconsciously started leaning in Stark’s direction, but stopped when he heard the door to the balcony swing open behind them. 

“Tony!” A voice screamed. “You have to come see this! Hawk is going to grind down the staircase railing!”

“Hawk?” Stephen muttered.

“He means the other Tony.” Stark explained. “Tony Hawk.”

“Wow. Sounds like you should get in there.” Stephen’s stomach rumbled.

“It’s fine. I’ve seen him do enough tricks before.” Stark looked at him. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to-”

If he had been any less drunk, he would have seen it coming. But he wasn’t, and it was all he could do to aim the vomit out over the railing. He kept retching until most of the contents of his stomach had taken an express trip to the street below the tower. When he was done, he wiped his mouth off and stood back up straight.

“Are you done?” Stark looked concerned. “I can get you a bucket or something if you feel like you aren’t.”

“I’m fine.” Embarrassment flooded Stephen’s system. “I should probably be getting home.”

_That was horrible. He probably thinks I’m a fool now._

“How did you get here?” Stark asked.

“I walked, but I’m going to take the subway back.” Stephen waved him off. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You shouldn’t be taking the subway like this. Let me call you a car.” Before Stephen could argue, Stark had taken his phone out of his chocolate-stained pocket and was dialing someone. 

_Ugh, fine. If he’s so intent on it, then who am I to stop him?_ Stephen leaned into the railing again.

“It should be here in a few minutes. Do you want me to go down with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Stephen looked at the other man, allowing himself to admire him. Stephen really liked Stark’s eyes for some reason. They were captivating. “And thank you for inviting me. This was a good party, Stark.”

Stark cocked his head to the side slightly. “You can call me Tony, you know.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Stephen. “Okay.” 

He kept staring at Tony’s face, knowing that he wasn’t being discreet. For the moment, he didn’t care. He could regret the way he had acted all he wanted to in the morning. Right then, the only thing he could focus on was Tony.

Tony smiled at him, and Stephen smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thing tony reads off of his phone about astrology is a real article I found, and it was funny how perfectly it describes Tony and Stephen, so I put it here. i don't believe it astrology much personally, but I loved how well it fit their relationship
> 
> "Gemini and Scorpio will usually annoy each other senseless. None of them will lightly understand their partner’s personality. To Gemini, their partner will seem too depressed and dark for no apparent reason, and for Scorpio, this could be an experience with no purpose or depth. If they do fall crazy in love, they could connect through their mutual love of change and give each other the exact things they lack. Gemini would get deep, emotional satisfaction they have never felt before and Scorpio would finally get the chance to rest their troubled soul, and realize that not everything needs to be taken seriously. This is a relationship of great lessons and an enormous capacity for personal growth of both partners."


	4. The Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting in so long! I've been really busy. I really want to finish this story, but I also didn't want to post anything I wasn't happy with. I hope you guys like the chapter!

The headache that Stephen woke up with on November first was a good reminder of why he rarely drank. When he thought back to the events of the previous night, Stephen remembered another reason why he shied away from the stuff.

_ I acted like a moron in front of Stark. _ He stood up to get a glass of water, intent on washing the disgusting taste that was in his mouth out.  _ Tony. He said I could call him Tony.  _

It felt wrong to address the other man that way when he wasn’t drunk and caught up in the fervor of a raging party. Every snippet of honesty that Stephen had offered up to Tony last night now ran through his head, and he wondered if he had been right to act so vulnerable. 

_ Vulnerable to what, though? Why does he want to get to know me so well? Why do I want to let him?  _ The water from the tap tasted like it had been dredged up from some swamp, and didn’t help the taste in Stephen’s mouth.  _ I need to buy more Brita filters.  _

__ The next MPO practice was in two days, and it loomed large in Stephen’s mind. He would have to face Tony again, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He still couldn’t figure out what on earth had possessed him to act the way he did at the party, but he knew that he needed to. If he didn’t give himself some closure on the colossal embarrassment he felt, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. 

A glance at the clock on the wall told him that he had enough time for a visit to Wong’s shop before he started his shift at the hospital. Though he knew how Wong would react to the story of the night before, he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Right then, Stephen wanted a friend. 

_ Seeing how many friends Tony has makes me realize how few I do. But that’s fine. Isn’t it? I’ve never needed that many people before.  _

__ The familiar sting of resentment grew in Stephen’s gut, replacing the lingering feelings of warmth he’d discovered towards Tony. Ever since he’d met the man, things had been distinctly not normal for Stephen. The careful routine he treasured was threatened by undue nerves and crazy Halloween parties.

_ Some of that’s my fault. There’s no denying that. I’ll have to be more careful in the future. But it all stems from him. He’s the one who’s putting me through all of this uncertainty. So what if he told me about his parents? He clearly felt the need to give me his own story of grief after I talked about Donna. It was a polite obligation at best and something he said to make himself feel better at worst.  _

As he left his building and began walking to Wong’s shop, he shivered at the icy wind that was blowing through the streets. The weather of the night before was gone, replaced by something much less friendly. He made a mental note to find where he had put his favorite knit hat.

When he made it to Wong’s and stepped inside, a sense of relief flooded over him. There was something calming about the place. Then again, pretty much anything would have seemed calming compared to the brutal winter outside. Though Wong called himself a librarian, his shop didn’t just sell books. Elaborate tapestries hung from the walls and arrays of crystals and bags of special herbs sat on tables. The space was so full that there was only enough space to barely squeeze through the floor-to-ceiling shelves without knocking off any of the trinkets that sat next to the books. 

Stephen had always possessed a vague interest in the kind of antiques that Wong sold, but he hadn’t yet been enamored with anything yet enough to buy it. It seemed silly to spend money on something to decorate the apartment that he barely spent any time in. 

There were no customers in the shop save for an elderly woman hunched over her cane, and Wong brightened when he saw Stephen come in. “Look what the cat dragged in!”

“The cat? More like the wind.” Stephen muttered back, approaching the counter where Wong sat near the back side of the store. “I thought I would drop by.”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“You almost never really just drop by. Either I schedule a chunk of time with you weeks in advance or you’re going through some crisis and you need to ask me about it without admitting that you’re asking me about it.”

Stephen’s cheeks reddened, but it was hardly noticeable due to how red they had already been from the cold. “That’s not true. You make me sound like a horrible friend.”

“There’s nothing horrible about it.” Wong shrugged. “That’s just how we work. I’ve come to terms with the fact that your jet-setting brain surgeon lifestyle is going to make it hard to see you too often.”

“Jet-setting? I haven’t gone out of the country in years.”

“You’re deflecting. I get that you’re busy, and frankly I’m not sure I would know what to do if I saw you more than once every few weeks anyway. What are you here for?”

_ He knows me too well. If I mention Tony, he’s going to draw the wrong conclusions. But that’s what I came here to complain about!  _ “Um…”   


“Is it about Tony Stark? Tell me it is.”

Stephen stared at him.

Wong grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. Well, what happened? I’ve been wondering how being around such a celebrity would spice up your boring life.”   


“Five seconds ago you said I was jet-setting.”

“Compared to me, yes. Compared to the richest guy in the city? Probably not. Here, sit.” Wong produced a chair. It was old and the wood of the armrests was cracked. 

“Do you want me to make you some tea?”

“No.” He noticed the chill in his bones again and reconsidered. “Actually, sure.” 

“Keep talking. I’ll be able to hear you in the back.” Wong disappeared into the back room. 

Stephen glanced in the direction of the old woman who was inspecting a crystal by holding it an inch away from her eyes. “Erm, what about your customer here?”

“Lila? She’s deaf as a bat. She wouldn’t hear anything you said if you screamed it through a bullhorn.” 

“Oh. Alright, then.” Stephen sighed. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He wanted to make sure Wong didn’t get the wrong impression about him and Tony. They weren’t even friends, much less whatever fanciful idea Wong would produce. “I went to his Halloween party last night.”

“What?” Wong shouted loud enough to cause Stephen to jump. Sure enough, the old woman acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “How did you swing that? I’ve heard about that party. It’s supposed to be something else. I’ve always wanted to go myself, in fact.”

“Really? That surprises me.” Stephen couldn’t imagine Wong at the party he’d attended last night. 

“Not for any of the more barbaric festivities,” Wong explained. “But it’s about the only way I could get an invite into Stark’s penthouse, and he’s rumored to have a collection of texts from the Khmer Empire that I would love to have a look at.”

_ Only Tony Stark would keep something like that in his apartment,  _ Stephen thought with a tinge of disdain.  _ For all I know, he could be using them as coasters. _

“Tell me what it was like.” Wong went on. “Was it as off the wall as it’s made out to be?”

“It was certainly something. I spent most of the night with other people from the MPO off in a corner, though, so I didn’t take part in all the crazy stuff.”

“Oh, so he invited the orchestra?”

“Yes.” Stephen answered. 

“Frankly, I’m still surprised you went. Last I checked you still had an intense irrational hatred for the man.”

_ Here he goes.  _ “That’s not true. Anyone would be bothered by the way he conducts himself. And it isn't hatred. It’s a distaste.”

“Sure.” Wong said, in a disbelieving tone. “Did you see him at all or was he tied up with his hosting duties?”

“We talked.” Stephen responded simply. It was hard to broach the subject of what they had talked about, though he knew Wong would be understanding.

There was a pause before Wong responded. “Hold on, I get the feeling this is something I want to be face-to-face with you for. Let me finish getting the kettle ready.”

A minute or so later, Wong emerged. “It’ll be ready in a little bit. So, what did you talk about?”

“I can’t really remember where it started. I showed up early, and so I was forced to spend some time with him.” Stephen said. “But when we were removed from the context of competing with each other-oh wait. Did I tell you about that?”   


“About what?”

“Our conductor put us in competition for this solo. He said that he thought it would encourage each of us to give it our all.”

Wong smiled, and then let out a quick chuckle. “You’re kidding. He always seemed scary when I would see him at your concerts, but I have to say that I’m with him for this. Nothing gets you riled up like a competition.”

“I suppose so.” Stephen admitted. “Like I was saying, whenever I’m around him at practices, it’s unbearable. He’s unbearably annoying. But when we were just talking with each other outside of all of that, I found that he wasn’t too terrible.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement coming from you.”

“Quiet.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “I was also put off because of how nice he was being to me. Part of me thought that he was trying to find some weakness that he could exploit to win the solo.”

Wong shook his head. “Stephen, my friend. Is there any piece of information that he could actually use to do that? No. What I’m hearing is that he likes you.”

Stephen’s cheeks began to redden again, but this time it wasn’t hidden behind the agitation from the cold. He had already acclimated to the warm temperature of the shop. “Don’t start on this again. It’s nothing like that.”

“I didn’t say that it had to be a romantic like.” Wong replied. “But from what I hear now it seems that he wouldn’t mind being a friend. Why is that such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know.”  _ He must have some ulterior motive, right? Or maybe there’s nothing behind it at all. He’s friends with everyone he meets. Maybe he sees me as a puzzle to solve because I’m more closed off than others.  _

“Okay, what else did you speak about? Give me specifics.”

“To tell you the truth, I can’t remember some of it. I drank more than I should have.”

Wong nodded. “I did think that you looked more scraggly than usual. This is also interesting.”

“What? Why?”

“Nothing. It’s unusual for you to indulge like that, is all.”

Stephen knew that was true, but hearing it from Wong’s mouth made it seem like his actions the night before had some deeper meaning. Why had he felt the need to get so drunk? “I feel mortified, to be honest. Near the end of my night, I was talking to him and I vomited.”

“Oh, goodness. Where? Not on him?”

“Thankfully, no. I aimed over a railing. He was kind about it. Too kind. He even paid for a car to take me home.”

“How chivalrous.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.” Stephen struggled to find the words. “I don’t deserve any kindness from him, just like he doesn’t deserve any from me. I don’t even like the man. Knowing that he saw me so vulnerable turns my stomach.”

“Okay, I’m going to go out on a limb.” Wong tapped his finger on the counter next to him. “You’re overreacting. He did something nice for you and now you think that you’ve made a moron of yourself. I assure you, he doesn’t care.”

“I care.”

“Why do you care, Stephen?” Wong asked.

Rather than answer the question, Stephen moved to the other topic that had been on his mind. “I told him about my sister.”

This caused Wong’s expression to shift. He looked both confused and worried for Stephen. “Explain.”

“He asked me about why I got into medicine, and for some god-awful reason I decided to tell him the truth. That was right when people started showing up, so he dipped away.”

Wong’s face hardened. “Maybe I was wrong about him, then. You shouldn’t run away after someone tells you something like that.”

“He came back later.” Stephen said. “Right before I threw up, he told me about the tragedy that happened to his parents. I think he was trying to reciprocate the honesty.”

Again, Wong’s face changed. He looked happier. “Good. I was right about him. I knew it. I’m never wrong. It’s clear that he wants to get to know you better. He must be serious about it if he would get that personal with you.”

“But I’m not that way. I would rather he left me alone.”

“Is that really true? You went to his party voluntarily and you were honest with him about why you became a doctor. I think some part of you is interested in him.”

Stephen sputtered.

Wong held up a hand. “I didn’t mean like that. Relax. Although, with the way you’re reacting…”

“Stop that.” Stephen pointed a finger at Wong, meaning to get him to quit talking, but Wong didn’t even react. One thing that Stephen had learned about being real friends with someone was that it was much harder to intimidate them into listening to him. 

“Well, did you act this way when you were becoming friends with me?” Wong asked.

“You’re different. It’s not like you stole my seat and acted like a buffoon everywhere you went.” Stephen let out a breath. “Besides, I enjoy being around you. That’s not always true with him.”

“I’m just saying, Stephen.” The whistle on the kettle blew. “The fact that you even want to spend time talking about this shows that it has some meaning.” Wong went to retrieve the tea but kept speaking. “What would happen if you did decide to try and be friends with the guy? Would the world end?”

“No. But I don’t…”   


“You clearly do want to. I hate that I have to tell you that for you to believe it.” Stephen heard Wong laugh to himself. “What would you do without me, you silly man?”

“Hey.” Stephen frowned. 

Wong returned with the tea. “I’m just joking. We both know that without me you would be a successful, jet-setting surgeon with the emotional intelligence of a piece of celery.”

“Remind me why I put up with you?” Stephen mock glared at Wong.

“Because I provide said emotional intelligence that you sorely need.” Wong responded. “Oh, and I make great tea.”

As Stephen blew on the cup of tea to cool it down, he thought on Wong’s words.

_ I am spending a lot of time thinking about Tony. Maybe I do want to get to know him better. He wasn’t completely horrible last night. But I can’t get past the fact that I’m competing with him. Also, the man I met last night seemed wholly different from the fool I have to put up with at practice. Hm. I’m not sure what to do.  _

The rest of his conversation with Wong was mostly Wong trying to convince him to explore where a friendship with Tony could lead and Stephen giving him noncommittal, vague responses. Eventually Wong gave up and they spoke about other things. Still, Tony stayed on Stephen’s mind as he left the shop and ventured out back into the cold.

_ I’ll give it a try. I’ll be nice. Maybe he’ll act differently towards me after last night. He might be less irritating to deal with.  _   
\---

“What’s up, Upchuck?” Tony asked, grinning, as he plunked his violin case down next to where Stephen was sitting. Tony was early for once. Apart from Sam Wilson, who was chatting with another viola, they were the only ones in the ready room.

In the few days leading up to seeing Tony again, Stephen had thought through many scenarios about how to interact with the man. Most of them were destroyed as soon as the greeting left Tony’s mouth. He clenched his fists involuntarily. “Excuse me?”

Tony scratched the back of his head. “Upchuck? It’s a synonym for barf, puke, etcetera. Oh, I forgot. You would probably call it vomit, right? With you being a doctor and all…”

_ He must be trying to provoke me. As soon as we’re back in familiar territory he acts the same as always. Why would I think it would be anything different? _

Stephen’s face darkened and he turned away from Tony. Rather than respond to the other man’s list of synonyms, he fiddled with one of the fine tuners on his violin. He knew that his avoidance was obvious, and he could almost feel Tony shift next to him.    


“I didn’t mean anything bad by it!” Tony said. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to have that nickname stick around. I like calling you Doc too much, I think.”

“Good.” Stephen muttered simply, intent on telling Tony to leave without saying the words aloud. So much for trying to be nice.

“Did you get home all right? I was kind of worried. You looked like were pretty out of it.” Tony’s voice was earnest, but it was hard to put too much stock in that after what he’d greeted Stephen with.   


“I managed. Thank you again for providing a car.”

“Sure, no problem.” Tony was holding a pair of sunglasses, the same ones he’d worn to the audition. He was opening and closing the part that went behind one’s ears repeatedly, like it was a reflex.

The squeaking sound was getting on Stephen’s nerves, and he gave a loud sigh. Tony kept at it. “Could you stop that? It’s quite grating.”

“What? Oh, sure. Sorry.” Tony said. Stephen glanced at him and found it hard to read the emotion on his face, but was reminded by how captivated he had been by Tony at the party. He looked away.

_ Remember what Wong said. Do I want to be...friends with him? I should try and put in some effort into this conversation. Is that even what this is? Maybe he just came over here to bother me with no intention of talking.  _

Stephen spoke with the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you for inviting me the other night. I was doubtful about the whole affair, but you were right about it being a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Really?” A smile spread across Tony’s cheeks. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. Personally, I was worried that it was tamer than it had been in the past.”

“Seriously?” Stephen was surprised. “That was tame to you?”

“Yeah, compared to other ones I’ve thrown.”

“Well, maybe I came in with low expectations.” Stephen said. “I don’t go to many parties. I never have.”

“They didn’t have keggers at med school?”

Stephen shook his head and said in a knowing tone, “People who spend their time at keggers don’t tend to pass med school.”

Tony opened the latches on his case. “It worked out in the end for me. Not that I went to med school, but I wouldn’t call MIT a walk in the park either.”

Sometimes when he was talking to Tony, Stephen would forget about the man’s wealth and supposed genius due to the sheer force of his absurdity. Then he would mention something like his alma mater and remind Stephen who he was talking to. Without putting nearly enough thought into the question, Stephen asked, “They didn’t go easy on you for being Howard Stark’s son?”

Tony’s face tightened for a moment before he hid it behind a false pout. “Aw, I’m hurt. Do I seem too dumb to graduate from MIT without help from my father?”

“I’m leaning towards no, but I also have yet to see that genius of yours in person. Unless having the dates of every astrological sign memorized counts as genius.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Tony laughed. “No, my father didn’t help me. It wasn’t in his power to get me to pass my classes, and if you knew him you would know that he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me anyways. My degree is one-hundred percent mine. Scratch that, all of my degrees are.” 

“And what would those degrees be?” Stephen questioned, somewhat invested in the answer. When at work, he never paid attention to what degrees any of the colleagues or competitors in his field had. He knew that he was better than them all, so why did it matter? However, he felt like hearing what Tony had achieved would give him some insight into the man. 

“I have a masters in physics, electrical engineering and mechanical engineering. I also have a doctorate in artificial intelligence. It’s funny, students who want to go down any of those paths now usually have to learn about stuff I’ve discovered since I graduated.”

“That’s impressive.” Stephen said, truthfully.

“I guess so. Oh my god, I forgot that I have a doctorate. You could call me Doc too if you wanted to!”

“An M.D. is quite different from what you have.” Stephen responded. “Besides, I’m not a fan of nicknames. Be happy I decided to call you by your first name.”

Tony grumbled something under his breath.   


“What?”

“Nothing!”   


Stephen fixed Tony with an intense stare. “What did you say, Tony?” He noticed how Tony’s eyes flitted to his when he said Tony’s name. 

Their gazes stayed locked together as Tony sheepishly admitted, “I said that I liked you better when you were drunk.”

_ Figures. I’m sure that he loved seeing me embarrass myself. Oh Lord, I hope no one else from the ensemble saw me leave. I was too far gone to even be paying attention. _

Before he could reply to Tony with something cutting, they were approached by the duo of Clint and Scott. Stephen sunk into his chair a bit. Those two definitely weren’t going to make him any less irritated. 

“Hey, Tony!” Clint held out a hand and ended up pulling the billionaire into an awkward sort of man-hug where he clapped his back. “Sorry I didn’t get to see you before I left your party. Bucky and Steve dragged me off to get enchiladas. There’s really nothing like Mexican food when you’re wasted.”

“No worries.” Tony slipped into a different stance. Stephen only caught it because he had been watching him the whole time. It was like he was assuming a different role. Someone more easygoing, yet also more calculated. 

_ I must be overthinking it. He doesn’t seem to put much thought into anything he does. Anyways, why would he act any differently with me than he does with Clint? Is it because he thinks I’m rude and I piss him off? No, that’s not it. Wong said he likes me in some way. I’m overthinking it. _

“Things usually get pretty chaotic by the end, so I don’t blame you. It's pretty run of the mill to find a few stragglers passed out in the morning. Last year I found Jessica Alba asleep in one of my bathtubs the morning after.”

Clint laughed. “No way.”

Scott cut in. “And thanks for letting me take home all that booze. I really feel like I should pay you back somehow. I mean, I’m pretty sure one of the bottles of rum you sent me off with was really pricey.”

Tony shrugged him off. “I don’t even need it all. People still bring their own stuff even when I tell them not to, and I never mind handing out free alcohol. What kind of rich guy is such an asshole that he’s against getting other people drunk for free?”

The men laughed. Stephen didn’t laugh with them.

Clint’s eyes moved to Stephen. “Oh, Stephen! I didn’t end up talking to you the other night, but I did see you there. I thought I was hallucinating. I couldn’t believe that you’d show up at something like that voluntarily.” He looked between Stephen and Tony. “Unless Tony kidnapped you and forced you to come? I wouldn’t put that past him.”

“No.” Stephen said. “I chose to attend. Why? I have no idea.”

Tony chuckled. “Duh. I’m irresistible.”

_ Irresistibly stupid. Ugh, he must be rubbing off on me. That was childish, even if it was only a thought.  _

“Even though I was looking at you from across the room,” Clint continued, “You looked totally sloshed. I mean, Tony was having to help you walk to the elevator! I thought you guys hated each other.

_ What. He did what.  _

Stephen did not remember much after leaving the penthouses’ balcony, but hearing that he had been leaning on Tony for support was much worse than anything he could have imagined. “Where would you get that impression?” He decided to play dumb. 

“The way you’re always glaring at him or pretending like he doesn’t exist, the fact that he took your spot, and how you’re fighting with him for the solo.” Clint listed off. 

“Not going to lie, I thought that you didn’t like him too.” Scott put in. “But I also thought you didn’t like me up until the other night.”   


_ People say things like that as if I gave them much thought in the first place. Scott is nice, but I wasn’t spending much time thinking about how I felt about him until I actually talked to him. Is it really my job to go out of my way to be nice to people?  _

Stephen looked at Tony, who seemed to be enjoying this. Then, he sighed and looked back to the two other men, who were oblivious to how much they were bothering him. “I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I had any issues with any of you. I’m aware that I can be off-putting sometimes.”

Scott nodded. “It’s cool. Hey, the solo you two are going for is actually why Clint and I came over here. We thought it would be fun to take bets on who would win.”

Stephen focused on his reflection in the mirror across the room. He knew that if he wasn’t careful, he was going to come off as murderous. He certainly felt that way.

_ They’re taking bets? Don’t they have any semblance of professionalism? It’s insulting to everyone involved. I wonder which one of them thought of it. I didn’t know Scott well enough before to see it, but now I can tell that him and Clint would be a force to be reckoned with. A force of stupidity.  _

“Really?” Tony spoke first. “So who are you guys rooting for? Have you asked anyone else?” It was as if he didn’t care in the slightest about what the two were doing. That somehow made Stephen more angry.

_ If I yell at them, I’m going to look like a stuck-up jerk. Oh, but I want to yell at them so badly.  _ Stephen had another thought.  _ What if everyone bets that Tony will beat me? _

“I’m for Tony.” Clint told them, and Stephen’s stomach fell.

“And I think Stephen will get it.” Scott followed up. “We were actually arguing over it earlier. That’s why we thought it would be fun to bet on it and get some other people involved. We wanted to make sure it was okay with you both first, though.” He looked at Stephen.

_ It makes sense that Clint would root for Tony. He likes that Tony shook things up this year and it makes him think he can beat out Natasha. Not likely. Scott, though? I’m happy that they both didn’t not pick me, but-damn it, why do I even care about this? _ _  
_

After a little bit too long, Stephen gave the slightest of nods. “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

Clint and Scott grinned and gave each other a high five. “Nice! We’ll go around and ask everyone else.” Scott said. “I always felt like the one thing missing from orchestra ensembles was gambling, so this is perfect.”

_ What does that even mean? _

“Let’s go ask people.” Clint said to Scott. “We can probably skip Natasha, she’ll think it’s stupid and not worth her time.”

_ Because she has more than an ounce of common sense.  _

“Wait.” Tony stopped them from walking away. “Am I allowed to bet?”

Stephen was surprised. He’d expected Tony to entertain the idea, but not get involved. This couldn’t lead to anything good. Clint shrugged. “I didn’t think you would, because you’re one of the people going for the solo, but sure. How much?”

Tony rubbed his index finger and his thumb together, as if in thought. “What’s an acceptable amount for this? People have told me that I overdo it in the past.”

“What were you thinking of?” Scott asked. Stephen could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. 

“Is ten thousand too much?”

Stephen cut in. “Yes. That’s insane.”

Clint frowned. “I wish I could say that was good, but if you ended up winning, I don’t think we could pay you back from the pool of money. It’s not like there’s much in it for you.”

“I wasn’t going to do it for the money, anyways. I thought it would give him,” Tony pointed at Stephen. “More of an incentive to step it up. Plus, I know it would piss him off. In a funny way.”

“You’re doing a great job of that right now.” Stephen growled in a deadly tone.

“Great! Mission accomplished! But I’ll lower my bet to a thousand. That’s more reasonable. I’m betting on me, obviously.”

“Cool.” Clint replied, excited. “Stephen? You interested?”   


“I’d rather not participate in something like this.”

“Come on, Doc. Are you sure? You’re not afraid of losing money when I win, are you?” Tony was trying to push his buttons, he could tell. But it was working.

_ I’m going to make him wish he never tried to mess with me.  _ “If you insist. I’ll put a hundred dollars on me.” He gave Tony a withering look. “We don’t all have infinite funds to throw around on silly bets.”

Both Clint and Scott acted like they hadn’t been expecting for their request to go this smoothly, and after a few more pleasantries, they were off to pester the rest of those in the ensemble about the competition. Once they were gone, Tony relaxed again, ever so slightly. Maybe Stephen hadn’t been imagining how he had changed when Clint and Scott had come over earlier.

“Hey,” The billionaire said. “You know I was just teasing you, right? It’s nothing serious.”

It felt serious to Stephen. He took a breath in.  _ What would Wong advise that I do right now? Hm, he’d probably tell me to be cordial with Tony, despite the fact that I could rip his throat out right now.  _

Stephen tried his best to not let it show how much he had been riled up. “...I know that you were. I assumed that you were only playing around.”

“Good. Don’t be too mad when you lose your cash, okay?   


“If I didn’t have a chance of beating you, Fury wouldn’t have started the whole thing in the first place.” Stephen shot back. “Don’t be overconfident.”

“Touché.” Tony chuckled. “You know something?”

“I know a lot of things.” Stephen responded. 

“I can never tell what you’re thinking.” Tony went on. Stephen’s heart froze. 

_ Why would he care about what I’m thinking? Does that mean I’m on his mind as much as he’s on mine? He only occupies a space in my head because of how annoying he can be, but what merit would I have to make him care about my thoughts? What is he trying to say? _

When he did eventually respond, it was in the condescending tone he often slipped into without realizing it. It was sort of his default, and served as a protection against any verbal embarrassment. “If you’re ever in doubt, just assume that I’m thinking about how much of a nuisance you are.” Stephen sniffed. He went back to tuning his violin. 

Tony just laughed again and started fiddling with his own instrument, and the conversation was over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the stakes are raised! there's nothing to encourage a harsher competition than some good old-fashioned gambling, right? Unfortunately, a harsher competition will probably also mean that Stephen gets even more aggravated with Tony (if that's possible).


	5. Sectionals

It should have been easy for Stephen to put Tony and the situation with the bet out of his mind with how busy he was, but it wasn’t. The man would slip into his thoughts at random times without warning. A few weeks into November, Stephen was practicing his violin when he flubbed a note because he had started to think about how Tony would play it.

He sighed, and readied himself to try again. But when he attempted to, he messed up the sequence again. It was relatively easy, and he knew that the music wasn’t what was bothering him. He couldn’t even make a stroke of his bow without wondering if Tony would do it differently. If he would somehow do it better. 

He set down his violin on the table gingerly, moving to his tiny kitchen for a glass of water.

_I’m sure he would find how unsure he’s making me hilarious.  
_

According to Clint, the ensemble members who had decided to participate in the bet were almost perfectly split between believing that Tony and Stephen would win. Tony had one more supporter than Stephen did. Clint had also rattled off who was supporting who, but Stephen had only paid attention to a few of them. He was happy to hear that Thor was on his side, and shocked to hear that Natasha had participated and backing him. He suspected that she might have only done it to spite Clint. One of the second violins who he didn’t know well, Wanda Maximoff had also chosen him. From what he had seen of her, he was also caught off guard to hear that she had cared enough to bet, but glad that she was on his side.

Clint had bet for Tony like he said he would, along with Steve, Bruce Banner, Rhodes, and others. Stephen didn’t hold it against any of them, but was a little stung due to the fact that most of them had known him longer than they'd known Tony.

At the rehearsals since they’d made the bet, Tony had made a routine of coming over to sit by Stephen in the ready room before they started practicing. Since their cases were close together, he would usually try to strike up a quick conversation after they were through too, before he went off to make the social rounds with the rest of the group. The initial fascination of having a celebrity in the ensemble had worn off by then, but it had been replaced by a genuine adoration for the man by most of the members. He went out of his way to get laughs, and for everyone else, he seemed like a joy to be around.

_Key words: for everyone else. Am I the problem? It could be because we’re competing for the solo, but it feels like it’s something else. It must be something with me. I mean, he has Peter practically wrapped around his finger, and they’ve only spoken a few times._

Peter had finally mustered up the courage to talk with Tony at one of their practices, and Stephen had heard the detailed play-by-play on their usual post-rehearsal walk.

“It was so cool! Every so often I would have to remind myself that he was really there, and I wasn’t having some sort of awesome hallucination!” Peter said gleefully. 

Stephen wasn’t keen to hear Peter gush about someone he had such a conflicted opinion of, but he couldn’t bring himself to rain on the kid’s parade. “What did you talk about with him? I was wondering when I saw you two speaking earlier.”

“Uh, I don’t even know where to start! He probably thought I was totally crazy, to be honest. When I get nervous around people I tend to start talking really fast. Like, so fast that you can’t even understand what I’m saying.”

“I’m sure it can’t have been that bad.”

“I guess it wasn’t. Let’s see, I started off by introducing myself. Obviously. Then I asked him about the part in his biography where he talks about how one of his inventions won this national prize when he was seventeen. I’ve been working on some stuff that I kind of want to submit for a contest that’s sort of like it, and I thought he could tell me what winning something like that when he was so young was like.”

“What did he say back?”

Peter’s face fell for a moment. “He didn’t remember winning it. He said that most of his biography was ghostwritten.” Then, Peter was back to one-hundred percent. “But all the stories are true! He made sure to tell me that. And he also told me that he thought I had a good chance of placing in the competition.”

“Did you tell him what you were working on?”

“Like, an outline, yeah. Then he told me that you should never tell anyone else about your project unless it’s finished and you know they won’t try to steal your idea, which was really good advice, I thought!”

“Yes, that seems smart.” Stephen agreed placidly.

“Then I asked him about why he never talks about playing the violin, and he said it’s because he only picked it up again a little bit ago. I was like, that’s crazy, because you got the first chair without playing for so long and…” Peter trailed off and looked to Stephen. “Oh, sorry. I know that you used to be-”

“You’re fine.” Stephen said back. “It is what it is.”

“Okay. Well, I thought it was cool that we played the same instrument, and he asked me how long I’d been playing and where I went to school and things like that. So I told him that stuff, but I was still talking really fast because I wanted to say the stuff about me as fast as I could. Because I didn’t want to waste his time, but I also had so many questions for him, you know?”

“Of course.”

“Next I told him about how me and my friend Ned found an exploit in the software of one of the old StarkPhones. Everyone already knows about it on the internet, but we found it before it was, like, common knowledge.”

Stephen laughed. “You told him about how you hacked into his company’s phone?”

“That’s not what I meant by it.” Peter corrected him. “It was more like I was giving him constructive criticism. Not that he needs it. Oh my god, you don’t think I offended him, did I? That’s not what I was trying to do!”

“How did he react?”

“He didn’t seem upset about it. He said he thought it was cool that I was into computers and said that he might ask me if he ever needs someone to test the newest StarkPhone. I think he was joking about that, though. I just can’t believe I talked to him for so long. Is it weird if I try and talk to him again at the next rehearsal?”

_He’s really excited about this. I don’t remember ever idolizing anyone this much when I was young, so I can’t hope to understand, but if it makes him happy I should tell him to go for it._

Peter was somewhat similar to his idol in that he could endear himself to practically anyone he met, but Stephen found the kid to be more genuine. Something about the way he would stumble over his words or give a jump at the end of a sentence for punctuation was wonderful. “Definitely not. It’s probably in your best interest to get to know him.” Stephen said. “Maybe he’ll be able to connect you with some people in STEM.”

“That would be great! I didn’t even think of that.” Peter grinned. “Although, I wouldn’t want to ask him that straight up. I’ll have to show him the stuff I’m good at first so he knows how serious I am.”

“If he’s as smart as he claims he is, I’m sure he’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” Stephen said. A bit of an edge seeped into his tone, which Peter caught onto.

“You’re not really a fan of him, huh?”

“Hm? No. I don’t keep up with his career, though.”

Peter continued. “Yeah, but do you like him as, like, a person?”

_Why is everyone so intent on finding out how I feel about Tony Stark? I’m sure there are more interesting things under the sun, for God’s sake._

Stephen settled for something that could be interpreted in a variety of ways. “He’s an interesting man with a lot to say.”

“Come on,” Peter was unsatisfied. “You can tell me if you don’t like him. I’d feel bad talking all about him if you don’t. Besides, you never talk about your life. I probably talk too much, don’t I?”

“I doubt that you would find much of my life very exciting.” Stephen said. “Trust me. And...I think that Tony and I are just different kinds of people. That’s not a bad thing, but sometimes it’s hard to find where to meet in the middle. Does that make sense?” Stephen found that the words were the closet articulation to how he had been feeling that he’d been able to muster. Clearly, Peter was good at getting it out of him.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll try to let you talk more when we walk, though. I told this guy who sits next to me in home economics that I was friends with a brain surgeon and he didn’t believe me, and then I couldn’t even back it up because I didn’t know enough about your job to sound like I wasn’t lying.”

Stephen had smirked. _It feels better than it probably should to know that a teenager is using me to seem cool with his classmates._

Stephen gave a small smile again at the memory, and sipped the glass of water he had gotten from the faucet. He still hadn't remembered to buy Brita filters. The tap water was disgusting to him, but he drank the whole glass anyway. When he went back to his instrument, he stared at it for a moment before picking it up. The recent events had made him see his violin and music in general in a different light. 

Until Tony had come along, he’d always been the best. He had put in effort where effort was due, but he had never really had to compete for the top spot. Now, he wondered what it would be like to be someone like Clint who was constantly coming in second. Was that him now?

_I shouldn’t make it all about the competition. I love music, and I love the violin. It doesn’t have to be about him._

Most of it wasn’t. Stephen knew that he would never stop loving music and playing his instrument. It was almost as much a part of him as his medical career was. But at the present moment, all he could focus on was where he measured up against Tony. He wanted to get the solo, to prove to himself that he could, along with showing Tony, Fury and everyone else. Getting the solo would also make him feel better going into auditions for the next season, and make him think he could take his spot back.

_But that’s all too far off. Right here, right now, I need to work for it. When it comes down to it, that’s all I can do. If my hard work doesn’t meet his natural talent, then there’s nothing I can do except work harder._

Stephen picked the instrument back up and placed his bow to his string, determined. As he started to play, he didn’t try to expunge Tony from his mind. Whenever he made an error, he would isolate the passage and repeat it a dozen times until he was sure he would never make that mistake again. And as he played, he tried to enjoy the music itself.

Eventually, he lost himself in it, and it was like there was nothing else in the world but him and his violin.

***

The hospital always seemed more busy during the winter months to Stephen, and the statistics would probably tell him that it really was. Between car accidents and falls on icy sidewalks, waiting rooms were full and operating tables were extremely in demand real estate. Of course, he didn’t deal with general consulting, but his schedule was still hectic. Shifts were as long as they were arduous. Somewhere around the middle of November, Stephen lost a patient on the operating table. 

They’d called him in to help with a case in the ER that they thought he would be suited for. He’d already been in the building so he’d arrived quickly, but by the time he had started operating on the critically injured woman, he knew that chances were slim she would live. He did his best, but it wasn’t enough. Losing people never failed to wound him. The truth that there had been nothing he could do was never good enough when facing a death. He’d delivered the news to the family rather than making one of his nurses do it. It was only right.

Incidents like that usually put him in a funk for some time, and he definitely felt worse for the next week or so. He tried to fight it by working on his research project proposal, which was almost done. His rationalization that if his research succeeded, it would save countless lives, didn’t make him feel much better. He was scheduled to present the proposal and request funding in mid-December, but he wished he had more time. Even though he expected to get the money, Stephen would never do anything relating to his job halfway.

By the time November was almost over, Fury mentioned that they would be having sectionals in lieu of their next rehearsal. Stephen could feel Tony shift in the seat next to him. 

_Yeah, surprise. Being section leader comes with responsibility._

Stephen had always enjoyed leading the occasional sectional when he was section leader, but it wasn’t his issue anymore. It was up to his stand partner. He was interested to see how Tony would handle it.

As it turned out, he didn’t appear fazed in the slightest. After their practice, he figured out a time that would work for all of the violins and notified the theater management when they would be using the space. When the day of the sectional rolled around, Stephen realized that he was looking forward to it. They had barely done any work as an individual section, and he felt that he could use it as a way to get to know some of the violins better.

While a full-scale symphony orchestra usually had just under twenty first violins, the MPO only had ten. Stephen was acquainted with most of them, as the only new faces other than Tony that year had been Peter and Shuri. The rest had all been veterans of the ensemble for at least three or four years. Most of them had been there longer than Stephen himself. 

For how young Peter and Shuri were, their seat placement was impressive. They were the fifth and sixth chair. Stephen hadn’t talked much with Shuri past his initial interaction, but he could tell that she was bright. She was vivacious too, animated in even the way she played. Fury had once given her one of his famous deadly glares after she’d been whispering to Peter a little too loudly while he was talking. 

When he arrived at the Lieber for the sectional, Stephen had to take a moment to stop and shake off the snow from his coat on the mats by the door. The winter hadn’t let up at all. If anything, it was getting much harsher. Just the few blocks he’d walked from the subway stop closest to the theater had left him covered in a fairly thick dusting of the white powder. 

It was a weekend, and they were having their rehearsal in the middle of the day due to schedule conflicts a few members had brought up for a night rehearsal. Stephen didn’t mind. He had the day off for once, and intended to spend the rest of it after the sectional working more on his project proposal. If he thought he was progressing well enough, he might even indulge in getting some takeout instead of cooking.

He was pulled out of his thoughts about the rest of his day by a familiar voice. “Hey, Doc. How’s it going?”

Stephen turned his head to see Tony walking in the door. At the curb, the car he had come up in pulled away. “I’m good. And yourself?”

“Just peachy.” Despite his words, his voice was somewhat strained.

Furrowing his brow, Stephen decided to press him. “Are you sure? You sound less than ideal.”

Tony shrugged, mimicking Stephen’s actions by shaking off the miniscule amount of snow that had fallen on him during his walk from the car to the building. “Maybe I’m getting sick or something. It’s flu season, right?”

“Yes.” Stephen affirmed. “If you’re really sick, then you shouldn’t be out and about. Did you get the flu vaccine?”

“Yeah, duh.” Tony made a sullen face and breathed air out through his nose, exasperated. Then his face changed to something softer, and he said “Sorry, maybe that was rude. I’m not sick. I don’t think so, anyways.”

“What’s wrong, then?” Stephen liked seeing Tony out of sorts less than he thought he would have. 

“It’s stupid. You’re going to laugh.”

Stephen gave an incredulous impression. “I don’t think there’s much you could say that would make me laugh.”

Tony made a face. “I made you laugh on at my party, didn’t I?”

Stephen tensed and moved to walk away. Any mention of the Halloween party made him want to melt into the floor. 

“Wait!” Tony held up a hand. “Forget I said that. I was going to tell you that I’m worried about doing this sectional. I’ve never had to lead a group of musicians before.”

_Seriously? He’s worried about this? I wouldn’t have thought that it would bother him in the slightest. He doesn’t seem the type to have stage fright, and anyway, it’s only going in front of a few people. Hardly comparable to whatever big tech presentations he must have to make for his job._

“Really?” Stephen prodded, not sure how to respond.

“No. Remember, I told you that I mostly did solo work when I was younger. I’m not worried about any of the people or the music, but I think I’m kind of a bad teacher.”

Rather than rebuke Tony’s statement, Stephen asked, “Why do you think that?”

They had begun to move towards the ready room. Tony had a flush to his cheeks that couldn’t have come from the cold. “This is going to make me sound like a total asswipe, but teaching isn’t really a skill you feel the need to develop when you’re the best at everything you do. And with music, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You’re a knowledgeable musician.”

Tony’s overcast expression lightened as he bit back a grin. “Don’t go too far now. I feel like forcing praise out of you is a surefire way to get you to have a stroke or something.”

“I was being honest.” Stephen said back. “I don’t give out undue compliments, but that one was due.” It was easier to speak with Tony when he wasn’t constantly making inane jokes, Stephen found. 

“Thanks, Doc. Hey, you’re my number two, right? If I say something stupid, you’ll tell me? I’m sure you’d rather be the one teaching, so feel free to jump in anytime you want.”

_That’s...sweet of him._

“I’ll do that. Thank you for asking me.” They entered the ready room. Tony was ahead of him, but he still went to the place that Stephen usually placed his things before rehearsals. Stephen followed him. They were silent for a moment. When Stephen spoke again, he realized that he had probably waited too long. He hoped that it hadn’t sounded awkward. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be fine. You won’t have to teach anyone much, and I’m sure you’re a competent leader. Besides, everyone’s friendly here, and they probably all think that you’re better than them.” Stephen said. 

The lines in Tony’s face eased a little bit at Stephen’s reassurance, and then he grinned. “Do you really think that?”

Stephen weighed the question for a second. He didn’t need that long to answer, though. “Yes. Easily.”

Tony undid the latch on his case while typing something into his phone with his other hand. It was the kind of multitasking characteristic of the billionaire. “Do you think I’m better than you?” It was an open question, not an attack. Stephen could tell that. 

He responded in a wry tone that he often used on Wong. “If I told you that, I don’t think our bet would be much fun, would it? No one likes a forgone conclusion in gambling.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Good answer.”

***

As Stephen had anticipated, Tony ended up doing fine as a section leader. If Tony hadn’t confided in him before, he would have had no clue that the man was even nervous. Since he did know, though, he could see some of the tells. They fascinated him. 

When they finished going over a part of their music, Tony would barely let the sound linger before jumping into a barrage of observations and assessments about their performance. It was like he couldn’t stand to linger in the silence for too long. Stephen had previously assumed that Tony’s continuous stream of babble was exactly what it seemed to be on the surface: A virtueless grab for attention. Now, he saw something else. Despite how Tony would throw in a few jokes or playful jabs at some of the other members of the orchestra, his uninterrupted speech wasn’t for anyone else. It was for him.

_He’s less anxious about things when he’s talking. It’s a defense, albeit an irksome one._

It was harder to be irked by it when he knew the source of it, however. Now that Stephen could glimpse a piece of the inner workings of Tony’s mind, he also knew why he was so predisposed to be against the man. If chatter was Tony’s defense against the parts of the world that scared him, silence was Stephen’s.

He’d always been a quiet child when he was young, and that intensified after the death of his sister. It was easier to stay silent than try and struggle to find words that would help him communicate. Over the years, he’d perfected a stern expression that fooled others into thinking that he wasn’t internally nervous. It made his subordinates fear him and his colleagues think he was rude. After wearing the mask for long enough, it was hard to remember how to present himself in any other way. 

A few people had tried and failed to get past it, namely Christine. She had really given their relationship her all, and he’d wanted to reciprocate, but he couldn’t. Something in him wouldn’t let him. The only person he’d managed to shed the persona with was Wong, and that might have been because the friendly man had never taken it seriously in the first place.

So, it helped Stephen to see that Tony wasn’t as perfect as he seemed. Maybe that was a horrible thing to find pleasure in, but he did. It wasn’t just because he wanted to be better than Tony, either. It was because he liked the idea that something in him was similar to the billionaire.

All of this went through Stephen’s mind in different terms as he watched Tony lead their section through practice. It didn’t erase the things he thought that he didn’t like about Tony, but it made them less important. Though something in him shifted then, it was only internal. Allowing himself to express much externally was still a skill sealed off and rusty from a lack of use.

Once the sectional was over and they were back in the ready room, Stephen was intent on leaving as fast as he could. He was even more unsure about the situation with him, Tony, the solo, and the bet than he had been before. Admitting that he might truly want to befriend Tony was much more difficult than treating him as a rival.

He couldn’t get away before Tony made it back to where their stuff was, though. “You were right. That was a cakewalk. I actually liked not having Fury glaring at me the whole time. Also-” Tony stopped mid-sentence when he looked to Stephen’s face. “Are you good?”

_Why does he have to ask me that? I’m...fine. People always misconstrue me being thoughtful as something else. I don’t know what to tell him. He’ll know if I’m lying, I’m sure of it. And the idiot will feel some sense of misguided duty to ferret out what’s bothering me since I helped him earlier._

“I’m just thinking.” Stephen answered. 

Tony’s eyes narrowed, and Stephen was positive that he was going to inquire further. Instead, though, all he said was, “It seems to me like you do that a lot. You should try turning your brain off sometimes.”

“I’m sure you have experience with that.” The reply was reflexive. Thankfully, Tony didn’t take it as an insult. 

“Sure do. Being a genius is only fun if you know how to be a little stupid too.”

“What do you mean?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s a lot of pressure being smart. I’m sure you know that. You need to know how to embrace a healthy amount of stupidity if you want to get through it.”

_His philosophy sounds questionable, but it’s also hard to argue with. Hm._

Stephen took in Tony’s words for a moment, wondering how much truth there was to them. The short pause in their conversation allowed what the people next to them were talking about to slip through. Those people happened to be Peter and Shuri, who both had excited expressions plastered on their faces.

It made sense that they would gravitate towards each other as stand partners and the two youngest members of the ensemble, but there was something easily visible in their instantly forged friendship that stood out as special to anyone watching. It could have been how the energy Peter could sometimes barely control melded perfectly with Shuri’s more subdued but still lively nature. Or it could have been that they were both extremely smart without even trying. But maybe none of those things were the primary reason for their friendship. Opposite of how some people seemed to be made to oppose each other on the surface like Stephen and Tony, some people were simply destined to be good friends. 

“...so glad you heard about it! I can’t believe I didn’t hear anything about it online!” Peter was gushing. 

“Like I said, it’s really hard to get in. They only have so many headsets, so there’s a waiting list.” Shuri responded.

“A waiting list for an art museum? That sucks. I feel like it should be open to everyone.” Peter said back, more deflated. “Are you sure that it’s worth it for us to go?”

“It’s worth a shot. We have zero chance of seeing it if we don’t go at all. Your aunt told you it was okay, right?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t get why I wanted to go. She says that VR headsets make her queasy.” 

Stephen realized that he and Tony had both been eavesdropping when Tony cleared his throat and turned to Peter and Shuri. “You two wouldn’t happen to be talking about that new exhibit they have at the Guggenheim, would you?”

“Yeah!” Peter grinned enthusiastically. “Have you heard about it?”

“Through the grapevine, yeah. I know the curator there.”

Shuri’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “You do?”

Tony nodded. “I can’t keep up with everything going on in Stark Industries, but unless there were some last minute changes, I’m ninety percent sure that they’re using StarkVR headsets for the exhibit. It’s a good thing too, those ones they make at Hammer Industries are cheap knockoffs.”

Peter and Shuri looked at each other and a wordless agreement passed between them. Shuri spoke. “Would you want to come with us, then?”

“He’s probably busy.” Peter said, attempting to be nonchalant. Nevertheless, Stephen could tell how badly he wanted Tony to say yes.

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d love to see the exhibit, but I’d feel bad about tagging along and ruining your fun.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, Mr. Stark!” Peter argued. “In fact, it’d probably be even more fun if you came.”

“Yep.” Shuri agreed. “I mean, if you don’t come with us, we probably won’t get in at all. So if you really do care about how much fun we’re going to have, you should feel obligated to come.”

“Okay.” Tony laughed. “One of the perks of being the guy with your name on the building is that you get to decide your schedule, so it won’t be a problem if I spend a few hours at the Guggenheim.”

Tony glanced at Stephen, which was when he realized that he’d been silent the whole time. 

_Why’s he looking at me? No. He isn’t going to…?_

“You wouldn’t want to come too, would you, Doc?” Tony asked. “I get the feeling that if I’m the only one there over thirty, they’ll end up running circles around me.” He added on in a fake whisper.

_I was going to work on my proposal for the rest of today. I should tell him no. Worrying about being a letdown has never stopped me from saying no to invitations before. But I don’t want to say no. He was just saying how I need to have more fun, wasn’t he? I’m not the most keen on seeing VR art, or whatever it was, but I still want to go. Wong would tell me to go. It doesn’t have to be a big thing. I can just say yes._

Saying yes wasn’t easy for Stephen. Doing it meant he had to combat the intrusive thoughts about not working hard enough on his research and the strange nerves that came with going on this kind of social outing. But he did want to go, and that desire overcame any other negative feelings.

“I’ll come if it isn’t too much of a bother to you two.” Stephen said to Shuri and Peter.

Shuri shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“It would be awesome if you came, Mr. Strange!” Peter exclaimed. 

Tony smiled. “It’s settled, then.” 

The way he smiled then was different from when he was in front of people and putting on a show. There was something more to it. Despite the common sense in his head screaming that he was naive, Stephen dared to hope that it was because part of the smile was for him. 

He would be honored to be the cause of such a beautiful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all your comments so far! I'm excited about where things are headed and happy that Stephen is finally starting to open up. I've also been wanting to use Shuri more in the story, so expect that next chapter! I imagine that her and Peter would be the best of friends/occasional partners in crime if they ever met.


	6. Museum Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! I hope you're having good holidays, whatever you celebrate. I realized halfway through writing this chapter that professional orchestras, usually don't rehearse as much as the MPO does, so sorry for that lack of realism. (it would be a lot harder to write about them if there were only two rehearsals before their performance haha)

Stephen thought they were sort of an odd group. That could have because he rarely ever went anywhere in a group in the first place, but there was a definite contrast between the four of them. Peter and Shuri could have been taken for high school students out on a lark, which was half true. Shuri had a puffy bright yellow winter coat and Peter was wearing a thin jacket that made Stephen wish he would put something warmer on. Stephen wasn’t sure what he and Tony would be taken for if someone looked at the two of them. He was in his usual attire, which looked drab next to Tony. Tony had put his huge sunglasses on to avoid being recognized, and wore his usual expensive looking coat.

They had braved the icy winds to get to the closest subway stop, and were now in the midst of the ride to the museum. Peter and Shuri had snagged seats on one side of the car as they’d gotten on, and the only other open spots were on the other side. That left Stephen sitting next to Tony.

Even across the car, Stephen could see that Peter and Shuri were engaged in an animated discussion of who knew what. Conversation flowed between the two younger people smoothly, which only emphasized the more stilted interaction between Tony and Stephen. 

He couldn’t help it. There was something different about deciding that he wanted to go out on the town with Tony and the kids and actually doing it. Tony was doing most of the talking for both of them, which was a good thing. Stephen kept getting distracted, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. One second he would be staring out the windows into the darkness of the subway tunnel, and the next he would find his gaze fixated on Tony’s face. 

“So, have you ever tried a VR headset before?” Tony was asking him. 

Stephen shook his head no.

“They’re pretty amazing. Especially now. When the technology first developed, everyone was making a big deal out of it when it was really just a free ticket for motion sickness. But some of the work that my company has done along with others made it so it could actually be used seriously. You know, it’s even being tested out as a way to practice intense surgeries.”

Stephen frowned. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“Why?”

“If it’s used as a supplement to train new surgeons, then I could see its usefulness. However, if it becomes the primary tool for learning, I think that several important things would be removed from the education they were receiving.”

Tony gave him a look that indicated for him to continue. 

It was easier for Stephen to talk about his work than it was for him to talk about other things. There, his words were backed with years of experience and authority. He rarely second guessed himself when discussing work. “Even the most accurate simulation would be sure to be missing one thing. An aspect of risk. I assume that there would be a set number of things that could happen in the simulation, and even if there were surprise obstacles for the trainee, it wouldn’t compare to the reality. You can re-do a virtual reality training, but you can’t do that with a real person on the operating table.”

“Makes sense.” Tony agreed. “If that’s how you feel about VR, I bet you’d hate the telesurgical robots my research and development lab has been working on.”

“Explain.”

“They would mostly be used when a doctor couldn’t make it to a patient due to a remote location or some other problem. The doctor would utilize an advanced VR headset to control the robot and perform surgery from afar.”

“That sounds like a good thing, actually.” Stephen surprised Tony by agreeing with him. He could see the merit of being able to help someone from hundreds or thousands of miles away. “But it should only be used as a last resort. What if the internet went out or something?”

Tony laughed. “They don’t use the internet, Doc. They take-oh, it doesn’t matter. I guess I just didn’t think you would ever be open to something that could be gunning for your job.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. Usually, someone insinuating that anyone or anything could beat him at what he did would have angered him, but it didn’t now for some reason. “The day a hunk of metal outperforms me as a surgeon is the day hell freezes over.”

“There it is.” Tony smiled. He looked up ahead to Peter and Shuri. “Uh, sorry if this is weird to say, but thanks for coming. Again.”

_What should I say? You’re welcome? No, that’s too much._

“Sure.” Stephen responded. 

“I can tell Peter really likes you.” Tony went on. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Stephen said. “He likes you too, you know. You’re his idol. That’s why he was too skittish to talk to you for the first weeks of rehearsals.”

“Lots of pressure, isn’t it?” Tony murmured. “Being someone’s idol?”

Stephen glanced at Tony. His expression was harder to gauge under the sunglasses, but his mouth was set in a firm line. “I wouldn’t know.” He replied. “I would expect so.”

“Oh, come on.” Tony was back to his easygoing tone. “You can’t tell me that you don’t have hordes of admirers following you wherever you go. You’re pretty well known. That, and…”

“And what?” Stephen snorted. “You’re the modern day Carl Sagan, Tony. That’s someone who would attract fans. I’m the modern day, say, Pierre Mollaret.” Stephen pulled out the name of a partially obscure surgeon from the past.

“Who?”

“Exactly. Your line of work is more likely to attract loyal followers. Not that I mind in the slightest. I can’t imagine having fans the way that you do.” Stephen shuddered at the thought.

“From the stuff I read that you’ve published, I feel like you deserve a few fans.” Tony said back. “I don’t know who Pierre Mollaret is, but it seems to me like you’re closer to someone like Sigmund Freud. Influential enough to reshape the world of neuroscience and neurosurgery.”

“Ugh, don’t compare me to him.” Stephen responded, exasperated. “He’s a hack.”

“Did I hit a nerve?” Tony chuckled.

“Yes, he’s the most overhyped man in the history of-wait. You read my work?” Stephen found it hard to imagine Tony sitting down to read the contributions he had made to various medical journals or the research he had published himself. 

Tony nodded. “I was interested. Plus, I thought it would be a good way to see if you were really all that.”

“And?”

“Yep. You’re definitely all that.”

Stephen turned his face in the other direction as discreetly as he could so Tony didn’t see the way his face swelled with pride. “Good. I confess, I haven’t had the time to look into your work for myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. It’d probably bore you, anyways.”

_Huh? Does he think I wouldn’t get any of it? No, that’s not why he said that._

Tony caught the slightly confused look Stephen had given him. “I don’t really think it would bore you. I’m just trying this thing where I’m more humble.”

“I’ve been told that I should try that too.” Stephen said. “But why now? No offense, but it’s never seemed like you were aiming to seem humble before.”

“None taken, I wasn’t. And, I don’t know, I just reached a point where the way I was doing things wasn’t working. That’s also why I joined the ensemble. I needed a change.” He smiled sadly. “I think I also realized that I’m kind of old for all that playboy shit. That’s what the press calls me. I’m a genius, a billionaire, a playboy, and a philanthropist.” 

Stephen could feel Tony’s shoulder pressing into his, due to the closeness of the seats. Would it be awkward if he moved away? He decided to stay still and pretend that he didn’t notice. “It’s hard to shed something like that.”

“Yeah.” Tony turned his head away to look out the window. “And I am trying. Sometimes, I’m probably not trying hard enough. You remember how I showed up to auditions, right?”

“How could I forget?”

“God, I must have made such a bad first impression with you.” Tony laughed. 

“Your second one wasn’t great either.” Stephen said flaty. “But, to be fair, I can be a harsh judge of others.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” 

“You just did.” The tension that usually filled Stephen when he was around Tony hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had lessened. If he let himself forget all his prior issues with the man, he could even allow himself to think that they were just two friends having a normal conversation. Were they friends?

_Would he call me a friend?_

“Very funny.” Tony turned back to him. “I was thinking about offering Peter an interview for an internship at my company.”

Stephen hadn’t expected him to say that, nor had he expected the flood of warmth that went through his heart at the words. “That’s wonderful of you.”

Tony’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly. “Not really. He’s amazing. I’m just snatching him up before some other place gets wind of him. Companies are scouting people younger and younger these days.”

“Don’t make it sound so selfish.” Stephen nudged Tony with his shoulder before he knew what he was doing. A millisecond of sheer panic ensued.

_Why did I do that? I don’t know him well enough to be nudging him like that! A few days ago I didn’t even want to be near him, and now I’m giving him shoulder bumps? If Wong had seen that, he would never let me hear the end of it. He would say...things that weren’t true. Tony is going to say something. He’ll have to. He’s going to use this as an excuse to embarrass me. Why did I even come along with them? I’m only opening myself up to do stupid things like nudging people in the shoulder. I wish someone would put me out of my misery right now._

Stephen had meant to say more to the other man, but had stopped after the incriminating nudge. He waited for the inevitable verbal takedown from Tony. But that didn’t happen. 

Instead, Tony looked at him with an earnest expression that Stephen could interpret even with the sunglasses and nudged him back. “What were you going to say? You just stopped.”

“Uh,” Stephen stuttered. “Just that, um, you’re doing a great thing. Peter will be overjoyed when you tell him that he has a chance to work for you.”

_Stupid. Stupid, stupid. When do we get to our stop again?_

“I hope so.” Tony nodded. “I know for a fact that the person I’m trying to be could be a good mentor for him, but I also know that I’m not that person yet. I haven’t decided whether or not I’ll do it.”

“You’re asking me what I think you should do?” Stephen asked. Tony nodded in return. “I think you should do it, because I know how much that kid deserves it.”

“He does deserve it, but I don’t want to get his hopes up if I realize that I’m not ready to take it on. The position I’m offering him would put him into more frequent contact with me than most of the other interns.”

“The sectionals went fine for you earlier, didn’t they?” Stephen said. “All your fears about not being able to lead, or teach, or whatever are unfounded. That’s how it seems to me. You’re overthinking it.”

Tony bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. “Yeah. I am.” Then, he looked gratefully to Stephen. “Thanks. It helps to hear it from someone else.”

“So, you are going to give him the interview?” Stephen found himself excited for Peter. 

“The interview is just a formality. He has the job if he wants it.” Tony replied. He paused. “Hey, we never really finished getting to know each other, did we? At the party.”

Stephen stiffened. “What more would you want to know?”

“I have all the basic information, but I’m missing all the important stuff.” Tony said. “Like, what your favorite Disney movie is. Or your favorite condiment.”

Stephen snorted. “Again, I wonder about your priorities. I don’t watch many Disney films, but I liked that one with the woman who turns into a frog. And my favorite condiment is ranch.”

“While I respect you for that first one, I have serious questions about the second. Of all things, ranch? What do you even eat ranch with other than salads?”

“Lots of things.” Stephen mused. “Chicken wings, cauliflower, pizza.”

“You eat ranch with your pizza?” Tony was shocked. “That’s evil. Something about that feels criminal.”

Stephen crossed his arms defensively. “What would you choose, then?”

“Ketchup.”

“That’s a bit basic for you.”

“It’s really not. You can put ketchup on anything. Obviously there’s hamburgers, hot dogs, and fries, but there’s also scrambled eggs, mac and cheese, hash browns, and so much more.”

Stephen frowned. “With hash browns? Really?”

“Hash browns are potatoes and so are french fries. What’s the problem?”

“They aren’t the same. I can’t explain it.”

“Big talk from someone who eats ranch with pizza.” Tony shot back, laughing. Stephen found himself laughing along. 

The train slowed to a halt and the announcer informed them that they had reached their station. As they both stood, Tony smiled at him. “This conversation isn’t over. I still need to figure out whether you were team Edward or team Jacob.”

“What?” Stephen asked, confused. He had no idea what Tony was talking about. 

***

The walk to the museum was only a few blocks, and was over quickly. Once they had gotten in the doors and paid the entrance fee (Stephen had to fight Tony to pay for his ticket), Tony went off in search of someone who could help get them into the special exhibit. They had agreed to meet back near the front whenever he had found who he was looking for and they could get in. Tony had made Peter give him his number, which had been hilarious to watch. The teen had been bowled over at the request.

In the meantime, the three of them wandered the rest of the building. Stephen had only been to the place a few times when he was younger, and once a couple years back for a work event. He’d never spent much time appreciating any of the art, but was getting the chance to do so thanks to Shuri and Peter’s detailed commentary.

“It reminds me of a tortilla.” Peter observed. 

“That’s funny! I was thinking the same thing.” Shuri agreed.

They were staring at a painting that depicted something that looked a little like the sun, but also included dark spots and patches of intense shading. Though hard to describe simply, Peter and Shuri had pretty much summed it up. 

“Sometimes I don’t understand how people can call stuff like this art.” Shuri went on. “I mean, I could do this if I had the paint.”

“It’s not always only about the visual aspects.” Stephen said. “It’s also about the meaning behind it and the meaning that the viewer can draw from it.”

“Even if I do that with this painting, the only meaning I can find is that the artist was hungry and wanted a taco.” Peter said. “But it might not be that lame, because now I kind of want a taco too.”

Shuri turned to Stephen. “But what if something doesn’t have any meaning behind it? Like, look at that one for example.” She pointed to an upright vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room. “That’s not art.”

“It could be.” Stephen argued. “Just the fact that it’s evoking a reaction from you at all means it’s succeeding. Sometimes the strongest messages can come from the simplest messengers.”

“Do you know a lot about art too, Mr. Strange?” Peter asked.

“Not really.” Stephen shook his head. “But I believe in finding the value in things that may not seem interesting at a first glance.”

_I don’t want them to feel like I’m lecturing them, but they seem interested in what I have to say. Even if Shuri is only waiting for me to finish talking so she can refute what I say. She’s going far, that one._

“Do either of you know the work of Jackson Pollock?” Stephen tried. Shuri nodded and Peter shook his head. “His paintings looked like they had been splattered on the canvas with no thought or effort whatsoever. But if you look closely, you can see the nuance in the brush strokes and the variance in colors. No two Pollock paintings are the same, because they each have a distinct meaning and feeling behind them.”

“That’s silly.” Shuri snorted. “Submitting a blank sheet of paper for an exam would mean you fail, but in art you can say that it has some meaning behind it?”

“There aren’t any parameters for what make good art.” Stephen said. “It’s subjective.”

Shuri’s eyes glinted. “Would you say that music is subjective? What’s your favorite piece of music ever?”

_Oh, here we go._

“I couldn’t pick one, but I’m fond of Mahler’s fifth symphony.” Stephen answered. 

“Then if music counts as art, which it definitely does, I could say that I thought that symphony was horrible. Right? Because it’s subjective.”

“I feel like you’re missing the point of what I was saying.”

“No, I’m not. I’m just making you aware of the flaws in your argument.”

Peter was looking back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match. “Wait, if it really is subjective, doesn’t that mean you’re both right? I mean, if you think it’s not art,” Peter pointed to Shuri. “And you do,” Peter pointed to Stephen. “It’s a matter of opinion.”

“No, because it’s only subjective if it’s art.” Shuri groaned. “And if it is art, then he’s right.”

Peter shook his head. “I guess I have no idea what either of you are talking about. Although, I have to agree with Shuri about the vacuum cleaner. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it,” Stephen said back. “It’s about respecting the intent of the artist and understanding that everyone finds different meanings in art. Also…” He trailed off. A woman in a grey uniform had walked right up to the vacuum cleaner. She bent over to loop the part of the cord around her hand, and then walked off with it.  
Shuri laughed. “I told you! That wasn’t even on display.”

Stephen had to admit that he’d made something of a fool of himself arguing for a piece of cleaning equipment. Rather than become agitated, though, he laughed with Shuri. “I suppose I’ll have to concede this round to you.”

Peter gave him a knowing look. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure beating her in an argument about anything is impossible. I’ve given up trying.”

“See? Peter has already learned that it’s useless to go against me. I’m always right.” She preened, basking in her victory. 

“Oh, Mr. Stark texted! He said to meet at the spot we picked.” Peter read from his phone. “He also says he’s sorry it took him so long, but a group of people recognized him and he had to stop for pictures.”

They moved back to the front of the museum, and eventually they saw where Tony was. He was talking to a shorter woman in a brown pantsuit, which they soon found out to be the curator Tony had mentioned.

From there, they were led into the exhibit and given the equipment to experience the exhibit. Peter and Shuri chattered through it all, both of them barely containing their excitement. Stephen was hesitant about trying the headset, but was eventually goaded into by the kids. Tony, on the other hand, hung back, insisting that once you’d seen one VR art exhibit, you’d seen them all. It made Stephen wonder just how things like this Tony had attended.

_If only we were all lucky enough to be bored by stuff like this,_ he thought sardonically. 

The exhibit was impressive, there was no doubt about that. It was the creation of a Polish artist focused on integrating art and technology, and was essentially a journey through a surreal landscape of many different artistic styles. As the experience went on, Stephen found himself getting nauseous, and by the time they got to cubism, he had to take the helmet off.

Peter and Shuri were still immersed, so he left them be and moved out the exit. Tony was situated on a bench right outside, typing something into his phone. He looked up when Stephen exited. “You’re done already?”

“I was feeling sick.”

“That’s no good. This time you don’t have a ninety-two floor drop to puke off of.”

Stephen gave him a mock glare, but there wasn’t much fire behind it. 

“Here,” Tony moved over. “Sit next to me.”

Stephen did. It would have been more weird if he’d decided to stand or take another bench. That, and something in him didn’t mind being next to Tony. “This was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.” Tony said. “I like seeing you out of your element.”

“I’m not out of my element. I mean, I don't visit often, but…”

Tony stowed his phone in his coat pocket. “That’s not what I meant. It’s hard for me to imagine you outside of rehearsal. You’re always so focused and intent on everything you do there, you know? I saw you at my party, but you were pretty gone for most of that.”

“Is that why you wanted to keep getting to know me? So you can come up with a picture of whatever I get up to outside of your line of sight? I can’t be that interesting.” Stephen scoffed. 

Tony locked eyes with him, and Stephen felt his heart jump. “You’d be surprised.” 

_I don’t know if I ever let myself notice it completely before, but he’s...he’s quite attractive. Isn’t he? I was aware that other people said that he was, and I even agreed on the surface level. But now...I can see something different._ Stephen realized where his thoughts were headed. _Not that it matters. It would be presumptuous to expect anything more than friendship from him when our relationship started off so strained. I see now that part of that strain was from me, too. Anyways, it’s ridiculous to think I could ever approach someone romantically without it ending in destruction, much less approaching Tony Stark. He’s one of the city’s most eligible bachelors. Also, I can’t remember if he’s ever said if he has any interest in men._

All in all, Stephen had more than enough reasons to convince himself not to look at Tony that way. Still, those reasons were hard to keep a hold of when staring him directly in the eye. 

Both men noticed that they had been looking at each other in silence at the same time, and both looked away. When Tony spoke again, his tone was lighter. He was probably trying to draw Stephen out of whatever shell he thought Stephen would construct after the embarrassing moment. “I had something else I wanted to ask you. Sorry, I know I’ve been coming at you nonstop today.”

“What is it?”

“I have this charity event in a few weeks. They found out that I play the violin and they wanted me to perform. I was thinking of putting together kind of an impromptu quartet. Bruce Banner from the cello section told me he would be happy to be the cellist. I thought you could be the other violin.” Tony’s voice turned shy at the end of his explanation.

_It depends on the day, but I could do that. I want to do that. I’m surprised he asked me. He’s never acted like he doesn’t respect my skill with the instrument, but this still feels like a big compliment._

“When is it and who are you going to have play viola?” Stephen asked.

“It’s the eighth of December. As for the viola, T’Challa said he would do it. Apparently, he’s a man of many talents. When he told me he could play viola, I started asking about what else he played. It turns out it’s easier to ask him what he doesn’t play than what he does.”

“The eighth of December?” Stephen ran through his work schedule in his head, trying to figure out if he would be free. “What charity is it for?”

“It’s to help fund after school programs for public schools in the city. Most of the donors who’ll be there are your average rich asshole, but the food will be good.”

“I can swing that.” Stephen said.

Tony grinned. “Really? That’s awesome, Doc. I was hoping you would say yes. I think I play better when I have you with me.”

_He can’t really mean that, can he? He’s saying a lot of things to me today, but I can’t tell if he really means them. Am I reading too much into it?_

“I’m glad that you thought of me.” Stephen responded plainly. “How formal is it?” Stephen had a few suits that he used for work events, but didn’t know if they would be inadequate for this.

“It’s black tie. Will you be able to find a tux? I can help you out if you need me to.”

Stephen bristled. _Does he think I can’t handle myself? I’m a grown man. I don’t need his help._ “I have one. Thank you.” 

Tony sighed. “I wonder how long they’ll be.”

“Not too long, probably.” Stephen replied absentmindedly. “Hey, do you know when you’re going to tell Peter about the internship?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“No reason. I just want to know when I should expect him to have completely lost his mind. It’s funny, when I was talking to him about you I said that he should use you for your contacts in STEM, and he told me that he wanted to feel like he earned it.”

“Two things.” Tony held up two fingers. “One, he did earn it. I haven’t met someone who has made me go ‘damn, they’re smart’ in a while. Two, you guys talk about me? All good things, I hope.”

“Depends.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious. I thought I was finally getting you to like me! I mean, you’ve barely said anything rude to me today. The only thing I’ve taken any offense to was the ranch on pizza comment.”

Stephen ignored the jab at his food preferences and shot back, “Would you like me to insult you now? If you feel like you enjoy it so much, that is.”

“Go for it. I’m a sucker for pain.”

Stephen suddenly came to the realization that it was considerably hard to come up with something to tease someone over on the spot. Grasping for straws, he went after the first thing on Tony that caught his eye. “I’ve always wondered. What’s with the beard? It looks like a small mammal died on your face.”

Tony chuckled. “Okay, that was seriously the last thing I thought you would come for. Hypocritical much? Your beard is only like two notches lower on the scale of ridiculousness than mine.”

“My beard is fine.” Stephen stuck up his nose. “Don’t make false comparisons.”

“Note to self: if I ever want to piss you off, I’ll start with the beard.”

“You should know that it’s a lot easier than that for you to piss me off.” Stephen rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

Tony’s voice barely changed, when he next spoke. It was a small enough difference that Stephen could have been imagining it, but he didn’t think he was. “Good to know that I have such an effect on you.” Before Stephen could process how his stomach had done a flip, Tony moved on. “Could I get your phone number? I’ll text you the stuff for the event.”

“Uh, yes. Sure.” Stephen recited his phone number and promptly received a text from Tony.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey, It’s the hot, badass, all-around amazing guy from your ensemble ;)

Keeping control over his expression to not let the faintest trace of a smile sneak through, Stephen furrowed his brow. “That’s strange. Thor just sent me a text.”

Tony punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up. You think Thor is hot?”

_ He doles out little touches like that so easily, without even thinking about it. I, on the other hand, almost have meltdowns after accidental shoulder nudges. I’ve seen him act that way with other people too. More evidence that there’s no reason to try to search for hidden meaning behind him acting that way with me. Lord, then why do I want to? I’m such a buffoon. _

“Who doesn’t?” Stephen said in response to Tony, blasé. He then started entering Tony’s contact information into his phone, saving him by his full name. 

He heard the snap of a camera next to him and turned to see that Tony had taken a picture of him. Stephen glared at him. “What did you- let me see.” When Tony showed him, he shook his head. “Delete that.”

“Too late, I already made it your contact photo.” Tony said, holding up the phone so Stephen could see. Tony had saved him as ‘Doc’. Of course he had. 

“I’m already regretting agreeing to this.” Stephen muttered, only half joking.

“Relax. It’ll be great. Here, I’ll even let you take a picture of me for my contact photo.” Tony flashed Stephen a smile. Stephen reluctantly took the picture, and they looked at the results. “Wow. How did you mess it up that bad?” Tony cringed.

The picture had been taken the instant after Tony had started to stop smiling, which meant the expression on his face was uncanny. Stephen just snorted. “It suits you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

_This isn’t how I was with Wong when we first met, but it’s good. We might be on track to becoming friends, in our own way. I’ll still win the solo, but that doesn’t mean I have to be in total opposition of the man while I do it._

They kept talking until Peter and Shuri exited the exhibit, and then parted ways once they made it back to the subway station. On the train ride back to his apartment, Stephen failed to devote his thoughts to the research work he was planning on doing when he got home. Instead, he was thinking about how he never would have anticipated his day to have turned out the way it did, and how happy he was that it had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked the chapter! I took the headcanon that Stephen loves ranch from the story 'whatever souls are made of' by atypicalsnowman. (also because I love ranch, and like Stephen, I have been known to eat it with pizza. I do not agree with Tony's assessment of the validity of ranch on pizza)


	7. Charity Event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! this chapter was taking me a while to write but I'm happy with how it turned out. I might be updating less frequently in the coming weeks due to school, but I'm serious about finishing this story. :)

Stephen had Wong over for dinner a week or so before he had the charity event with Tony. Part of it was because he wanted to prove Wong wrong about how he only ever tried to get together when he was in over his head. Part of it was because he’d bought loads of vegetable broth because it was on sale and he needed someone else to help him eat it. And obviously, part of it was because he was in over his head. 

Wong was sitting on his couch while he was moving around his tiny kitchen, working on the side dish he was making with the lentil soup. He was frowning at the walls. “Your apartment is so lifeless. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think a serial killer lived here.”

“Serial killers usually try harder than most people to conform to societal expectations of what their living spaces should look like, if they’re letting people visit. It’s so they don’t give themselves away.” Stephen responded.

“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.” Wong rolled his eyes. 

“I take it you’ve been listening to those true crime podcasts again?”

“Yes. You know I don’t care for violence, but there’s something addicting about them.” Wong said.

“It’s the car crash mentality. When something is so horrible you can’t force yourself to look away.” Stephen chopped the green onion he had forgotten to throw in the soup earlier. 

“Like your love life?”

_ I set myself up for that one, didn’t I? _

“I was wondering when you were going to decide to start teasing me about that.” Stephen attempted to sound unbothered. “Nothing has changed much since we last talked.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Wong asked. “You look different. More upbeat.”

“No I don’t. I’m just happy that you’re joining me for dinner.”

“Liar.” Wong chuckled. “You’ve got a glow to you. I’m always right about these things. Are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Tony Stark, or do I have to drag it out of you?”

“You can’t at least wait until we sit down to eat?”   


“No. You’re taking too long. If you would have let me in the kitchen like I asked, we would already be eating by now.” Wong was an avid cook, and seemed to be convinced that he knew more about making food than Stephen could ever hope to. Despite being less skilled in the kitchen than Wong, Stephen wasn’t helpless, and resented the implication. Plus, he was hosting, and had wanted to do the cooking. 

“Quality over speed.”   


“I can cook with quality and speed.” Wong said defensively.

“I know you can, but we’re at my place. I was trying to do something nice.”

“Nice? Nice like that vegetarian meatloaf you tried to serve me?”

“That was so long ago.” Stephen groaned. 

“Not long enough.” Wong frowned. “What’s the point of making a vegetarian version of something with meat in the name? It’s silly.”

Stephen sighed. “If I tell you what’s happening with Tony, will you stop being so insufferable?”

“Sure.” Wong answered quickly. There was a second of silence before he gave a poorly repressed snort. “That might have been my intention all along.”

_ Wow, it was so hard to tell.  _

“We’re on our way to becoming friends now, I think.” Stephen told Wong.

“Just friends?” Wong raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I haven’t even been able to think past that, so don’t go insinuating anything.”

“I would never. Tell me how it all came about, then.” Wong said expectantly.

Stephen did, relaying the story of their trip to the Guggenheim together and how he was scheduled to attend the charity event with Tony. For the most part, Wong allowed him to speak uninterrupted. When he mentioned how they’d exchanged numbers, Wong let out a low whistle. “Very impressive. I’m sure many men and women would kill to get Tony Stark’s number. Has he texted you at all?”

“He sends me links to articles he thinks I would be interested in sometimes.” Stephen said, leaning over the pot of soup and pretending to smell it to hide his blush. 

“Once he sent me a video of a dog, too. It was cute.”

“And how do you reply?”

_ I’m supposed to reply? It’s not like he’s saying anything. Is it rude not to send anything back when he doesn’t actually text me anything to respond to? _

“Um, I haven’t.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“No. I don’t see how I should reply to a video of a cute dog. I liked it. I’ll tell him when I see him.” Stephen told Wong, knowing that he would make no such admission. 

“You’re lucky he’s so clearly invested in you. Otherwise he would probably think you still hate him. Next time he sends you something, whatever it is, answer. Just so he knows that you’re not ignoring him.”

“Since when are you an expert on texting etiquette?” Stephen stirred the soup, which was almost ready. Wong wasn’t trying to be condescending, but it was still annoying to feel like he was being talked down to. So what if he didn’t hyper-analyze every tiny thing in a text conversation?

“I’m not, but it doesn’t take an expert to see that you aren’t one. Years of barely texting and communicating almost solely through professional emails have destroyed you.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Stephen brushed him off. “And I think he knows that I don’t hate him. I agreed to go to the thing with him later this week. Why would I do that if I hated him?”

“I guess so.” Wong conceded. “So, how do you feel about him?”

_ I believe that he could become a good friend if I put effort into the relationship. We’re at odds sometimes, but there is some form of connection there. The fact that he’s attractive to me is irrelevant, since he would be unlikely to return those feelings. Even if he did, a romantic relationship would be a disaster. I can’t...I don’t even know how to be with someone like that, to do it seriously. I’ve put that notion behind me. It’s for the better.  _

“It’s complicated.” Were the words Stephen eventually spoke. “Also, I think we’re good to eat. What would you like to drink?”

“Water is fine. What does complicated mean? You have a big vocabulary, surely you can put that to use and describe the feeling a little better.”

Stephen reached up into a cupboard for a glass. “It’s difficult.”

“Stephen.” Wong’s voice was quieter. “You can talk to me about this. Well, unless you don’t want to. I’m not going to force you, but I do think that airing things out will make them easier to deal with.”

_ He knows as well as I do that I don’t have anyone else to talk about this with. He’s right. Talking about it all will make it seem like less. But how can I do that when I can’t always find the words to explain it to myself? _   


“Fine, I’ll do my best.” Stephen set Wong’s water and the bowl of soup he had ladled for his friend onto the table. “Right after you tell me what you think of the soup.”

Wong tried a spoonful. “Seven out of ten.”

Stephen glared at him.   


“That’s above average! It’s a great score!” Wong held up his hands. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

“Considering you want me to dump all of my unprocessed emotional baggage on you, a little false praise wouldn’t hurt.” Stephen got his food and came back to sit. 

Wong tried another spoonful. “It’s growing on me. I’d give it a nine now.”

“Thanks.” Stephen said, his tone dripping in sarcasm. He then tried the soup himself.

_ Eh, he was right. Definitely not my best. I’ll try to send him home with as much of it as I can.  _

Taking a deep breath in, he thought about where to start. “Okay. If I’m being honest, I have thought about him in a romantic light one or two times.”

“We knew this already.” Wong nodded impatiently. “What’s bothering you?”

“What do you mean, we knew this already?” Stephen asked, irritated. “I don’t even think I knew that until a few days ago.”

“I’m ahead of the curve. And, like I said, I’m always right about these things. I just have to wait until you get around to noticing them. What I’m trying to do now is save you the stage where you agonize over whether to talk to him about it or not. You should do it.”

“Hold on. That is definitely the last thing I should do. There are multiple reasons why approaching him that way would be idiotic.”

“Let’s hear them.” Wong sipped the soup from the bowl, forgoing the use of a spoon. Immediately after he stopped, he went for the glass of water. 

_ It doesn’t taste that bad, does it? _

“First, I’m not sure that he’s into men.”

“That’s an easy one.” Wong said back. “You haven’t heard all the stories about the guys he’s been with in the past?”

Stephen shook his head. “I didn’t look into it much. He’s had boyfriends?”

“Not boyfriends.” Wong responded. “Or, I wouldn’t call them that, because they’re mostly one-night stands. I guess that means he hasn’t ever had many serious girlfriends either. There was that one woman, but I can’t remember her name.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Those tabloids that you’re too good for are helpful. Also, a lot of it is just out there. He isn’t exactly secretive about his personal life.”

_ He isn’t secretive with pieces of it. Obviously there’s more to him than what people see in the press. If there wasn’t, I wouldn’t be interested in him at all. _

“What you just said still doesn’t bode well for any involvement with him. If he’s only ever had one serious relationship that’s been public, he probably has a fear of commitment or something.”

“Says you, you practically invented the fear of commitment.” Wong snorted. When Stephen gave him the stink eye, he shrugged. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Sometimes what you need is brutal honesty.”

“Thanks, but I don’t see how disparaging me makes his issues less relevant.”

“It doesn’t. Think about it though. If he really is afraid of serious relationships, it must mean something that he’s been after you practically since the two of you met.”

“No he hasn’t.” Stephen refuted reflexively. 

“From what you told me, it seems like he has. Maybe you just didn’t want to let yourself see it.” Wong said.

“I don’t believe that.” Stephen didn’t. Stephen couldn’t believe that. It would make him an idiot, too blind to see the social cues right in front of his nose. “Another thing. How could I try and pursue him when we’re in competition for the solo?”

Wong rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just making up reasons not to do anything about it. If you win, he’ll get over it. If he wins, you’ll get over it. It’s not the end of the world.”   


“I’m not going to let him win.” Stephen frowned. “I can’t explain it, but I need to win. He already took my seat from me. It would bother me if I failed at this too.”

“Do you think you still resent him for taking your spot, and that’s why you’re being so difficult about this?”

Stephen thought about it. “No. I don’t think so. He might have had a better audition than me, so he deserves that. But...it’s like if I can’t win this solo, I’ll never beat him at anything again. I don’t want to be the second chair forever.”

“Why do you need to beat him? It’s okay not to be first.”

He couldn’t answer. Eventually, he shook his head. “I don’t know. See? This is why I can’t date anyone right now. I’m not ready to work through all of this.”   


“When are you going to be ready?” Wong asked. “Stephen, I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not going to wake up one day and magically be happier. And it’s not that I think the only thing that can make you happy is a relationship, that’s stupid. It’s that you aren’t giving yourself the chance to be happy. I think you do want to find someone, whether it’s Tony or anyone else, but it feels safer to just ignore it. You’re coming up with all the reasons not to try putting yourself out there, but have you ever thought about the reasons that you should be doing it? About how it could make your life better?”

“I-Can we talk about something else?” Stephen’s voice was quiet. Wong was correct, but that didn’t take the sting out of his words. The truth was that Stephen knew his options. They were pretty simple. He could either approach Tony, or he could leave things as they were and wait. 

_ Approaching him could ruin things between us. It could be a disaster. It is smarter to wait and see if anything happens, but after what Wong said, it makes me feel like a coward.  _

Wong had gone silent, and was staring contemplatively at his soup. His head rose when Stephen spoke again. “How can I dive into all of this when I don’t even understand how I feel?”

“You can’t. I’m sorry, I might have said a little much. I’m your friend, and I want you to be happy. Don’t think I’m trying to force you to do things my way. It’s just that I feel that if you don’t hear any outside perspectives, you’ll only beat yourself up.”

Stephen was glad that Wong was his friend then. Knowing that someone cared about him without having to try and gauge how much they cared was a safe feeling. “Thank you. I’ll...think about all of this. Who knows, I might have more to tell you after this charity thing. I haven’t played in a string quartet in a while, so that should be fun.”

“Good. Don’t worry about it all too much.” Wong murmured.   


“I won’t.” Stephen looked down at the soup, suddenly not wanting to eat the rest of it. “Sorry about the soup.”

“I’ve had worse. You act like seven out of ten is such a horrible score.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re such a fan, because I’m sending you home with leftovers. You can’t say that I’m not a gracious host.”

Wong fixed him with an even stare. “I’ll take the leftovers, and I won’t even complain. On one condition.”

“What?”

“Please, for the love of everything that is holy, leave the cooking to me from now on.” 

Stephen took a sip of water. “We’ll see about that.”

***

As soon as he arrived at the venue where the event was being held, Stephen re-evaluated his expectations of what it was going to be. He’d subconsciously assumed that it would be much like a fancier version of some of the stuff he had to attend for his job, but it was definitely a different crowd of people. While his colleagues were mainly focused on engaging in meaningful discussions and occasionally complaining to each other, the people here were all about posturing. 

A woman that Stephen passed on his way in was wearing an obscenely large emerald on her finger that probably could have fed a poorer family for months, maybe years, if it had been sold. For the men, expensive watches reigned supreme, but Stephen doubted that they had spared any expenses on their suits either. There was nothing wrong with the suit he was wearing, but in a sea of millionaires, he still felt out of place. Thankfully, he wasn’t headed straight into the ballroom where the majority of the people were. He had to pass through the lobby to get to the backroom where he would meet the others and store his instrument.

He’d spent a long time getting ready. Since he was performing, he would be under the scrutiny of the crowd for at least some of the time, though he doubted he would be the star of the show. This would be the first time Tony had played the violin in public in a long time, and that was definitely enough to attract attention. 

The group of four that would be performing had met once before the event to play through the music and make sure they meshed well as a group. Stephen was pleased with their sound, and even more confused as to why Bruce was in the back of the cello section. He was talented. Together, he was sure that they would do well. 

As he walked, he let out an embarrassingly large yawn. He had worked a late shift the night before by choice, getting home in the mid-morning hours. He’d slept until the middle of the afternoon, and he’d started preparing for the event as soon as he woke up. His body wasn’t exhausted, but was more tired than he was accustomed to. Hopefully that wouldn’t show when they were playing.

When he made it to the room that Tony had texted him directions to and entered, he found that only T’Challa was there. “Hello.”

“Hello, Stephen. I am quite surprised that we are the first people here.”

Stephen set his violin down. “Me too. When are we set to go on again?”

“In roughly a half an hour.” T’Challa responded.

“I would have thought that Bruce would be here already.” Stephen muttered. “As for Tony, he isn’t known for his punctuality.”

T’Challa chuckled. “I was honored to be asked by him to perform, but it was unexpected. Especially since I knew he would ask you to be the second violin. It is a good thing that I am so proficient in viola.”

_ He knew that Tony would ask me? Weird.  _

“I was wondering about that, actually.” Stephen opened his case and attached his shoulder rest to the back of the instrument. “He mentioned something about you being a musical savant, but didn’t really say how far that went. What all do you play?”   


“Violin was my first love, and the rest of the string section followed fairly quickly. Also piano, though that may be obvious. Hm, then there is flute, clarinet, trombone, percussion, alto and tenor saxophone, french horn, and oboe. I have also dabbled in various instruments popular in Africa such as the ngoma and djembe drums. There is more, but I will not bore you.”

_ Tony wasn’t kidding was he? Wow. _

“You’re practically a one-man band.” 

“I would not say I am an expert in all of the ones I just listed.” T’Challa said, humble. “But I enjoy turning to music when I am stressed from work.”

“Same here. You’re in international relations, right?”   


“Yes.” His eyes glinted with something humorous. “I assure you that the specifics of my job are even less interesting than the laundry list of instruments I’ve picked up.”

“I won’t pry, then.” Stephen looked at his watch, absentmindedly. “Although, I will ask, do you go to a lot of events like this? I have to admit I’m out of my depth.” 

“Yes, I do. I would not worry about feeling out of place. Most of the people here are not going to pay any attention to you. They are too immersed in the machinations of their own power and whatever goals they have for the night.”

Stephen shook his head. “It’s a charity event, but they’re all still thinking about how to give themselves a leg up. I’ve never really understood the rich.”   


“You don’t dislike them, though.”

“What do you mean by that?” Stephen raised an eyebrow. 

T’Challa gave him a knowing look. “You seem to be friendly with Tony.”

“Maybe. Still, that doesn’t mean I can’t despise the way our society puts the wealthy on a pedestal and forces everyone else to hold them up. I’m not struggling myself, but it bothers me how little awareness the super-rich seem to have of their privilege. Even if they aren’t actively hurting anyone with their hoards of money, they’re doing so indirectly by ignoring people in need.”

“My ears are burning, Doc.” Tony rounded the corner of the doorframe and came into the room. Bruce was a few seconds behind him, toting his cello. 

_ Of course he decided to walk in now. _

“I wasn’t-” Stephen started.

“Oh, don’t worry. I agree with you. Rich people are the worst. In fact, the only reason why I’m at this thing is because I didn’t want to let down the organizers. They figured that if I was here I could get other Scrooge McDuck types to show up. Judging by the attendees, I think it worked.”

Bruce set his cello against the wall. “Yeah, I can’t believe this is for after school programs. It looks more like the Oscars.”

“They have to lure donors in with this kind of thing.” Tony explained. “Sadly, most people don’t seem to find supporting underprivileged kids very exciting, so it has to be disguised as a night of fine dining and dancing.”

“Dancing?” Stephen quirked an eyebrow. “We aren’t playing anything that would be very good for that.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re on so early.” Tony nodded. “Dinner is served, then we give a classy performance and they all marvel at how tame I’ve become. After that, they’ll all be drunk enough to get onto the dance floor, and hopefully shell out even more money.”

“This doesn’t seem like your first rodeo.” Bruce observed.

“God, no.” Tony sighed. “I had to go to a million things like this for Stark Industries. Usually I was so bored that by the time dinner was served I had either already left or was making some kind of scene.” He brightened suddenly. “But I actually care about this cause, so I’m not worried about tonight.”   


_ It seems I was wrong about his charity being performative. I can tell from just looking at him that he genuinely cares.  _

“Why did you want to perform as a quartet?” T’Challa asked Tony, out of nowhere. “You’re a perfectly competent soloist, and I am sure you would have garnered rave reviews on your own.”

“When the organizers of this found out that I was playing again, that was what they said to me too.” Tony responded. “However, I couldn’t find any music to play by myself that felt fitting for the occasion. Besides, I thought it would be fun to perform with you guys.” Tony’s eyes strayed to Stephen, and for a moment it was like Tony was speaking directly to him. “I never get the chance to see you outside of rehearsal, so why not?”

_ Was he...did he mean that about me? He can’t have invented this need for a quartet just so he could get me to come to this with him, could he? No, that’s foolish.  _

“Fair enough.” T’Challa said back. 

“I’m flattered that you asked me,” Bruce scratched the back of his neck with a blank expression on his face. “Clint complained at me for like ten minutes when he found out that you asked me instead of him. It was kind of hilarious.”

“That sounds like him.” Tony laughed. “And of course I would pick you. I have a bias for my fellow scientists. How badass is it that I have the world’s leading expert on gamma rays playing cello for me?”

“Badass.” Bruce agreed simply. 

They all began getting ready to play, and ran through a few of their pieces. Stephen wasn’t worried about how they would sound. For some reason, the four of them meshed well together in a group. When they had a little less than ten minutes until they went on, Bruce ducked out to go to the bathroom and T’Challa muttered something about responding to a work email, subsequently pulling out his phone.

Tony had set his things next to Stephen’s when he came in like always. They were seated next to each other. Stephen had been staring off into space when he felt the other man’s eyes on him. “What?”   


“Nothing. Sorry. You look good in that suit.”

“Thank you. I confess that I was a bit worried about how presentable I would be, since I haven’t gone to anything this formal in a long time.” Stephen said, while simultaneously admiring how good Tony looked. The man fit perfectly in a tailored suit. Despite the black-tie theme of the event, he’d shown up in a suit that was more of a dark maroon. The deep brown tie he was wearing brought out the color of his eyes, as well. Stephen was unsure of how to return the compliment Tony had given him, so he left it unsaid. 

“Are you going to stick around after we perform?” Tony asked. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Stephen was tired, but he wasn’t going to duck out early. He’d spent too long getting ready to leave right after they played.   


“Oh, I don’t know. Bruce seemed like he was planning on leaving as soon as he could get away politely. Neither you or him seem to enjoy events like this very much.” Tony said it like he was giving permission for Stephen to escape early in the night.

Stephen crossed his arms. He would leave when he wanted to leave. Plus, he wanted to spend more time with Tony if he could. More experience with the man would help him work through the extent of his newfound feelings. In a sense, it was research. “I think I’ll stay. What kind of food do they have tonight?”

“I can’t remember, but I can guarantee that they won’t give you enough of it. That’s how these things are. They’ll put two bites worth of food on your plate, drizzle the sauce next to it, and call it a day.”

“Helpful for portion control, but not the best if you’re hungry.”

“Exactly.” Tony snorted. “I hope you got a real dinner before you came here.” 

Stephen winced. “Nope. Two granola bars and a handful of Chex Mix.”

“Yikes. Well, you can have my plate if you want it. I never like the food they serve at charity stuff. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Stephen fixed him with a humorous stare. “You would rather be scarfing down a cheeseburger from some fast food restaurant, I’m sure.”

“Yup. My top pick would be McDonalds, probably. They aren’t the best, but they’re the original. Wendy’s is good too. So are Five Guys and Shake Shack, but they’re so goddamn expensive.”

“Oh, now you’re a cheapskate?” Stephen rolled his eyes. 

“Anyone in their right mind should be outraged at how much Five Guys charges for food, no matter how wealthy they are. I have half a mind to buy them out myself and force them to lower their prices.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re so articulate about this?”

“What about you, Doc?” Tony asked. “What’s your go-to burger place?”

“I don’t have one.” Stephen said. “I don’t usually eat out. I don’t have time for it. Also, I’m not a fan of anything that’s too greasy.”

Tony threw up his hands. “Are you kidding? How can you even say that? The cheeseburger is one of America’s greatest culinary inventions! Which, okay, might not be saying much considering American cuisine is pretty much defined by trans fats and sugar, but still!”

“I don’t see the appeal.” Stephen replied simply.

“It physically pains me to hear you say that. Wait, are you vegetarian?” 

Stephen shook his head no.

“Then you officially have no excuse! Okay, that’s it. Sometime you and I need to get a burger together. I have like fifty spots we could go to.”

Shifting in his seat, Stephen felt his heart speed up. He liked the idea of going out to eat with Tony, but he wasn’t sure if the other man was serious or just caught up in the moment. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I get that you’re a busy guy, but being busy isn’t an excuse to have a distaste for one of the best things in the world.”

_ That sounds like a date. Is it a date? He isn’t giving me any other signals to think that it is. Maybe it’s just two friends going out to eat. We are friends by now. We would have to be, for him to invite me to a meal with him.  _

“I’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule.” Stephen nodded. “Seriously, though. If you try and make me eat a burger with a stupid name or more than one patty, I’m out.”

“That takes out like half of the places I had in mind.” Tony said, smiling. “But it’s cool. I’ll make a cultured man out of you yet, Doc.”

Stephen smirked back and said sarcastically, “Yes, because if I’m not already cultured, shoving an artery-clogging cholesterol bomb down my throat is what will do the trick.”

Bruce came back into the room. “Are we on soon? Sorry, this place is like a maze. You’d think they would have better signage somewhere this fancy.”

“You’re fine.” Tony told him. “We’re good to go out there and set up.” They gathered their instruments, and Tony looked back at Stephen as they were on their way out the door. “We’ll have to find a date for Operation: Clog Stephen’s Arteries later, huh?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Stephen said back. The idea of going out to eat with Tony made him nervous, but it was a good kind of nervous. He found himself anticipating the end of their performance so he could talk to Tony again, rather than anticipating the performance itself as he usually did. 

***

It went well, all things considered. As Stephen had predicted, all eyes were on Tony while they were playing. He was the draw, and they were just his backup. In one spot where Stephen had a few measures of rest, he even allowed himself to watch Tony as he played. He looked free, as if the frequently present invisible weight on his shoulders had been lifted. During a particularly passionate section of one song, Tony closed his eyes and looked like he could have been the only person in the room. The generous applause that they received after they were through caused Tony to give what Stephen thought was a real smile.

That smile faded into something less authentic when a microphone was thrust into his face by one of the organizers and he was asked to give a short speech.

“Hi, all. As you probably know, I’m Tony Stark, and I’m glad to be here tonight supporting the Hand in Hand Foundation to fund after-school programs in our city. Every kid deserves the chance for an equal shot at success, but as things are now, that isn’t possible. That’s why it’s so important that we encourage kids to be excited about their education. By being here tonight, you’re potentially helping a kid find their love for music, math or science, and that’s a great thing. And hey, if you’re feeling more giving later in the night, I’m sure that further donations wouldn’t be turned away. Thanks for coming!” He handed the mic back to the organizer, who looked disappointed that he hadn’t talked for longer.

_ Maybe he was expecting something a little funnier or rowdier.  _ Stephen frowned at the thought.  _ It’s not his job to act as the night’s entertainment any longer. It’s like they would rather see the Tony Stark who holds raging parties than the one who actually cares about charity. Morons.  _

__ Once they had stowed away their instruments again, Bruce left with a hurried excuse about needing to be up early the next morning. He was overly apologetic about it, and Tony had to convince him that it was fine and that he wasn’t being disrespectful before he finally took off. Tony informed Stephen and T’Challa that he had a table reserved for them, but on their way there, T’Challa was sidetracked by someone he recognized from his work in international relations. 

He split with Stephen and Tony to talk to the man, and as he moved away Stephen could swear that T’Challa winked at him. Analyzing the intention behind it was too overwhelming, so Stephen pretended like he hadn’t noticed.

_ Am I that obvious about my feelings? It’s like everyone can see these things but me.  _

By the time they made it to the table and were served, Stephen was starving. They had been given a dish that centered around roast duck, and it was delicious. He finished it in minutes, and as soon as his plate was empty, Tony slid his over. 

“Here. You could probably use it more than me. I ate before I came.”

Stephen looked down at the table. He could tell by the heat in his cheeks that he was blushing. “I thought you were joking when you said that earlier. I wouldn’t ask you to give me your food.”

“I don’t care. Like, at all.” Tony motioned for him to eat. “Go ahead.”

A tad self-consciously, Stephen dug in. Tony was mostly quiet as Stephen devoured the second plate, but it was a comfortable silence. Once he finished for the second time, Stephen pushed the plate away and yawned. He felt like falling asleep right there. 

“Tired?” Tony asked.

“A little.” Stephen admitted. “I had a late shift last night.”

“You did? I would have thought you could set your schedule with how high up you are in your field.” 

“Yeah, well…” Stephen struggled to find the words for why he subjected himself to long hours. “I feel like I need to be working as much as I can. What good am I if I’m not out there saving lives?”

“A fellow workaholic.” Tony nodded knowingly. “There’s a limit to that, though.”

“I know my limits.” Stephen said, annoyed at what he felt was Tony trying to tell him how to live, his mouth twisting downwards instinctively.

“I’m sure you do.” Tony responded quickly. “I just know how hard it can be to separate yourself from work when you’re in the thick of it. I stayed awake for six days one time when I was working on a new project, and-”

Stephen interrupted him. “Six days? That’s unhealthy, Tony.”

“I know it is. That’s what I was going to say that I realized, if you let me finish.” He paused, gazing at Stephen. “It’s kind of hypocritical to get mad at me for telling you to remember to take breaks when you do the same to me.”

“I don’t stay awake for six days straight.”

“It’s not always that. It’s like-you always seem so tired when I see you. Sorry, stop me if I’m overstepping. The only reason I’m saying anything is because I can relate. I’m not trying to cast any judgement.”

_ He means that. He notices how tired I look? I don’t look tired all the time, do I?  _

“Okay. I guess I can see what you mean.” Stephen agreed. “I didn’t mean to be standoffish.” His next words came out of his mouth naturally, but as he said them, he wondered if they were too revealing. “It makes me feel idiotic to have someone tell me that I’m not being healthy when I’m a physician myself.”

“I get that.” Tony gave him an easy smile. “You know, you can leave too if you don’t feel up to staying. I’m sure I can find someone who isn’t unbearable to talk to. They probably won’t be as good as you, but still.”

_ I like talking to you too. I like you. _

Stephen held back another yawn. “No, no. I’m fine.” 

“If you’re sure.” Tony said. Then, offhandedly, like it had just come to his mind, he asked, “Have you been working on the solo much?”

“Yes.” Stephen answered. “Why, are you nervous that I’m going to beat you?”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Tony replied playfully. “Fury probably only gave you a chance to make you feel better about me taking your spot. Everyone knows I’m his favorite.”   


“Are you blind to the death glares he gives you every time you open your mouth?” Stephen chuckled. 

“Oh, be quiet. He loves me.” 

“Are you sure about that? Sometimes he seems even more annoyed by you than he does by Clint, and that’s saying something.” They both laughed.

On the other side of the room, closer to the dance floor, a winding slow song started. Stephen looked over to see a man behind a grand piano, thoughtfully fingering the keys to produce a sweet and open sound. As soon as he started, pairs of people started flocking to the dance floor.

_ We’ll be the only ones left sitting in a little while at this rate. Hm, maybe I should have left. I feel like I’m about to fall asleep right here. _

Tony pushed his chair back and stood up. This incited a wave of panic inside of Stephen.

_ Is he going off to find someone to dance with? And he’s just going to leave me here alone? I should go. I won’t make a big deal of it, I’ll just tell him that I’m going to go home to sleep. This is awkward. Agh, how do I keep getting put into these situations with him? _

But then Tony was holding out a hand with an earnest look on his face. “Want to dance?”

A second wave of panic began, this one distinctly worse.

_ He’s...he’s asking me to dance? Why would he do that? Surely there’s someone more suitable than me here. Unless he wants to dance with me. Is he playing a prank on me? That can’t be it, he seems serious. I have to answer, he’s going to think I don’t want to. I want to, don’t I? Yes, I do. I definitely do. I want to dance with him more than I should.  _

“Yes, I would-sure.” Stephen sputtered, all too aware of how bashful he must have looked. He took Tony’s hand. It was firm, but soft, and fit into his perfectly. 

Tony led him out to the edge of the dance floor, but his eyes were on Stephen the whole way there. “Should I lead, or do you want to?”

“I don’t care.” Stephen said quietly. “We can do what you want to.”

“Hm.” Tony thought it over for a second. “You can lead, if that’s okay with you?”

“That’s fine.” Stephen’s hand travelled to Tony’s waist and he felt Tony’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder. They began stepping to the rhythm of the music slowly. Stephen hadn’t danced with anyone this way in a long time. 

_ This doesn’t feel like friend territory. I could be wrong, but... _

He was close enough to smell the fragrant forest-like scent of Tony’s cologne. He thought he could also detect another scent underneath that stronger one, a smell closer to engine oil, that probably came from Tony’s time in his workshop. Stephen could see the details of Tony’s face in a way he had never been given the opportunity to do so before. He noticed new things, like the errant lines on Tony’s forehead and the few grey hairs he was hiding. And for once, he didn’t feel embarrassed for staring, because Tony was doing it too. 

He wondered what Tony was thinking about him, and if it was anything remotely close to what the thoughts he was harboring. He hoped that it was, but he also didn’t want to end up being wrong.

“This is a beautiful song.” Tony hummed softly.

“It’s a waltz.” Stephen noted. “I think it’s one by Strauss.”

“Good ear.” Tony complimented. “You must listen to a lot of classical music.”

“I do.”

“Is there anything else you like?” Tony asked.

“I like jazz. I practically grew up on Coltrane and Monk.” Stephen said back. “Sometimes I’ll listen to old rock music like AC/DC or Journey.”

Tony’s face lit up instantly. “I love classic rock. Seriously. AC/DC is like my lifeblood.”

“That makes sense. I think you were playing one of their songs when I first met you.” The edge of Stephen’s lip rose in a half smile. 

“Yeah. I was. Wow, you must have really hated me. I can be annoying sometimes.”

“At least you’re self-aware.” 

They swayed together, moving around the floor. Stephen knew that there were eyes on them, but he didn’t care for once. He wanted so badly to drink in every part of this experience, it wasn’t worth it to waste any of his attention on their spectators. 

“You’re a good dancer.” Tony commented.

“Thank you.”   


“Dancing, violin, brain surgery. What can’t you do?”

“Lots of things.” Stephen said back.

“Name one.”

“According to a friend who I made food for recently, I can’t cook.”

Tony hand slid down from Stephen’s shoulder to the upper part of his back. “You’re probably better than me if you can make anything at all. The most I can manage is toast or an everything omelet.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. You take everything in the fridge and put it into an omelet. Results may vary.” 

Stephen chuckled. “With some of the things you apparently eat, I’m amazed that you’re still alive.”

“Yeah, I should really eat more fruits and vegetables.” Tony agreed. “I think there’s a joke in there somewhere about apples keeping doctors away, but I’m not going to do the work to find it.”

“Thank God for that.”

Stephen and Tony were looking each other directly in the eyes by then. The other guests, the music, and even the floor beneath them seemed to fade away. Things seemed more plainly obvious than they ever had. One thought ran on repeat in Stephen’s mind. 

_ I should kiss him. Right now. Right here. _

There was a good chance that Tony was thinking the same thing, Stephen believed. He leaned an imperceptible distance forward, before he was stopped by an oncoming yawn. This one was a big one, and he scrunched his eyes closed while he was in the middle of it. The exhaustion hit him like a freight train, and he found himself leaning into Tony. They were moving slower now, sort of out of rhythm with the piano. 

When Stephen made eye contact with Tony again, there was something else there. It was gentle. “Hey, Doc. I think you should head out. I don’t want you falling asleep and taking me down with you.”

_ Great, I ruined the moment. If there even was one. Damn.  _

“I don’t need to-”

“It’s fine.” Tony patted his back. “I don’t mind. Come on, I can get you a ride.”

Tony’s hand slipped away from his back and Stephen released the other one. He let his hand linger on Tony’s waist for a little longer, not wanting to let go. But he did, and he was again aware of the others watching as they walked away from the dance floor. One man was even whispering to his dance partner while staring at them. It was uncomfortable, but Stephen didn’t regret the dance. In fact, he already knew that he would replay the moment in his head on loop for days. 

“I can take the subway.” Stephen finally thought to protest.

“Yeah, you can. But I want to call you a car. Would you let me?”   


Stephen’s arguments died in his throat. “Alright.”

Tony was typing on his phone as they walked towards the lobby. They passed T’Challa on their way to the exit, and Stephen didn’t miss the small smile and thumbs-up that was shot his way. Thankfully, Tony did.

_ Was he watching us that whole time? Oh no. Well, he isn’t the type to talk at least. And, it’s not like anything happened! I should remember that. Friends can dance together.  _

It was becoming harder and harder to believe his own reasoning. 

Still looking at his phone, Tony spoke. “I’m really happy that I joined the MPO.”

“I’m happy too.” Stephen said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“You’re too kind. It’s a great group, but that’s not why I’m happy about it.” 

“Oh? Why, then?” Stephen was confused.

“If I never joined, I wouldn’t have met you.” The statement was simple, but it blew Stephen away. It was an admission, one that was almost impossible to take in any way but the obvious one. 

He felt the desire to kiss Tony come back, but it didn’t seem like the right time. He resolved to do it at some point in the future, for sure. “I’m happy that I met you too.” Getting himself to say the words was hard, but easier than he had expected it to be. He felt vulnerable, but for perhaps the first time with Tony, he also felt a burgeoning sense of safety. Tony wasn’t tricking him. There was no joke being played. Tony enjoyed being around him, despite all of his initial outward hostility. 

As they waited for Stephen’s car to arrive, they sat together on a bench near the front door of the venue. Not giving himself the time to hesitate, Stephen leaned into Tony, ever so slightly. A split second later, Tony returned the gesture. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t'challa the best wingman ever imo


	8. One-Woman Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry for not updating for a bit, hopefully the extra long chapter makes up for it. I've had the idea for this one in my head for a while. things get complicated before they work out.

The day that Stephen was scheduled to present his research proposal was fast approaching, but before it could arrive, something quite out of the ordinary happened. Wanda Maximoff, who had never spared Stephen anything more than a glance, came up to him after one of their rehearsals. He’d noticed her making the rounds with a stack of paper in her hands, but hadn’t been curious enough to approach her himself.

With a blunt stare, she held out one of the papers towards him. “I’m putting on a show to benefit the victims of the ongoing conflict in Sokovia.” Her accent wasn’t thick, but it was noticeable. Given the context of her statement, he made the assumption that she was from Sokovia as well.

He took the flyer and scanned the information on it. “Thank you. What kind of show is it?”

“It’s a conceptual art piece centered around the brutality of war and the fleeting nature of life. It’s only running for three nights, but I’d be happy to see you there.” Her eyes were still flat, making him wonder how much she meant what she was saying. 

“I’ll see if I can make it. Are you asking everyone?” Stephen gestured around at the other people packing their stuff away in the room. A good half of them were already holding the bright red flyers.

“Yes. I need to fill most of the seats, or else the bar won’t give me the stage for whatever I put on next. They made that threat after the lackluster attendance of some of my previous work.” She grumbled. “I would tell them off, but it was hard enough to get them to agree to let me use the stage in the first place.”

Stephen glanced at the empty space next to him where Tony would have been if he hadn’t hightailed it out the door as soon as practice was over. He wasn’t sure why the man had been in such a hurry. They hadn’t talked much since the charity thing apart from a few texts. Stephen had done his due diligence in responding to whatever Tony sent him, but still, their in-person interactions had been sparse.

_ It makes me feel like I was imagining everything before. But that can’t be right. He’s just busy, probably. He doesn’t owe me any of his time anyway.  _

__ To Wanda, he asked, “Have other people said they would come? From the ensemble?"

He got a poorly disguised glare in return. “What? Are you not coming if no one else does?”   


“Ah. No, that’s not what I meant. I just wondered if there was a night that everyone was planning on going, so I could try and come then.” Stephen said, wondering more and more what kind of show he was making a commitment to attending.

“I think Barton and some of that crowd were going to try to come to the one on Friday night.” Something in her eyes gleamed. “He was a challenge to convince, but I got him to agree by telling him that he’d enjoy the comedy.”

“There’s going to be jokes?” Stephen asked, confused.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. It’s about poverty, inequality, and a raging war. I just said that to trick him into taking up space.”

“How very astute of you.”

“I know. I take it you’ll come on Friday too?” She had her phone out in one hand, and was typing into it. She must have been writing down how many attendees she could count on. 

“Maybe.” That specific Friday was the day that he had to present his proposal, but that would be over and done with by early afternoon. If everything went well, he could look forward to a night out with other ensemble members. Getting to know Tony had made him want to try befriending some of the others even more, and this seemed like a good way to do it. It wouldn’t kill him to do something social. 

If the presentation went poorly, on the other hand, what could better fit his mood than a dark narrative about grief and horrible pain? 

_ That’s definitely not the best justification for going. Anyways, I should look on the bright side. Thinking about something going wrong is an invitation for trouble. I’ve prepared enough to get the grant. I can spend that night celebrating. _

“Scratch that,” He corrected himself. “I’ll be there for the Friday night show for sure.”

“Good to hear.” She nodded, and began to walk away.

“Wait.” He said suddenly, on an impulse. “Can I ask you something?”

She gave him an odd look. “Sure, but do it quickly. I need to hand out as many of these as I can.”

“Why did you bet that I was going to beat Tony out for the solo? We’ve never even talked.” Stephen had been grateful for her surprise support, but now that he was talking to her, he couldn’t see why she’d given it. 

“Stark seems like he needs to be taken down a peg.” She said simply. “I think it would be funny if he lost.”

“Oh, I-”

“Also, despite what they would have you believe, Stark Industries still has extremely close ties with the US Defense department. He may have sworn off weapons manufacturing because of some epiphany of peace, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t complicit in the crimes of big industry. All it would take for his factories to start pumping out bombs like the ones that are being used in Sokovia would be an order from the military. All capitalistic macro-corporations are evil. It’s as simple as that.”

_ Well, nobody can say that she doesn’t know what she believes in. _

“Even if it was because you wanted to bet against Tony, thanks for being on my side.” Stephen responded. Something tugged at his heart, and he continued. “But I really don’t think he’s as bad as you claim. You can’t hold one person responsible for the actions of a company. He isn’t even the chief executive officer.”

Wanda frowned at him. “I could argue with you about this, and I’m sure I would win, but it isn’t worth my time.” Her expression shifted to a more polite one. “I look forward to seeing you at my show.”

“I assume you would rather Tony didn’t come.” Stephen stated. A plan had started to form for another way he could casually spend time with Tony without making his feelings too obvious, but it wouldn’t work if Wanda was against Tony coming to her show. 

“On the contrary, I would love for him to show up. That way, I could show him the damage that his inaction is causing to the underprivileged people in the world.” Her eyes brightened. “Also, if he’s there, he’ll probably bring a bunch of his stupid fans with him.”

_ Tony has fans? Seriously? I knew he was famous, but it’s hard to imagine anyone sleeping with a poster of him hanging over their bed.  _ Stephen thought for a moment.  _ Oh no, I can totally imagine that. What am I getting myself into with him? _

“You talk with him, don’t you?” Wanda questioned Stephen with intensity. 

“Uh, yes. I don’t know what you-”

“Tell him that if he wants to appease any of the imperialistic guilt he must be carrying that he needs to show up.” She said it with an air of finality, as if the matter had already been decided. Then, she walked away for good.

_ What just happened? I guess now I have an excuse to ask to spend more time with him.  _

Texting Tony made Stephen much more nervous than it should have, so he chose to put it off until later. Across the room, he saw Peter standing by the wall, presumably waiting for him so they could walk together. He went over and greeted the kid, and they were off.

Peter launched into a description of his first day as Tony Stark’s intern immediately. Stephen had been expecting this, as Tony had told Peter about the interview a few weeks before, and the interview itself had happened recently. What he wasn’t ready for was the sheer enthusiasm that punctuated Peter’s every word. Every time he thought it was impossible for the kid to be any more energetic, he was proven wrong. 

“I can’t believe that this is my real life! I keep waiting to wake up and find out that I was dreaming it all.” Peter gushed. “I thought that he would start me off by doing boring intern stuff, like filing or whatever, but I got to see his workshop. In person! Did you know that he turned down holding any interviews there because he wanted to keep his work private? But he showed me!”

“That’s great.” Stephen said.

“Yeah, it was something else. Some of the androids he had in there looked like they were five years ahead of the most cutting edge stuff on the market. I’m going to have a hard time not talking about it all the time when I’m at school, but he says it’s better if I don’t go around telling everyone what he’s working on. Still, he said I could tell my friend Ned, because I told him how big of a fan of him Ned is.”

“That’s smart. If you ever want something from him, I’m sure using his ego against him is the way to go.” Stephen chuckled.

“That’s not what I meant!” Peter was quick to correct. “I feel like he deserves to have an ego with how much stuff he does. That’s part of his persona.”

“Sure. So, what else did you do?”

“Most of it was him telling me about where everything was and explaining what the schedule was going to be like. He seemed like he really wanted to try and be there whenever I was working, which was super nice. I would be fine if he showed up once every week, so hearing that he’ll be there all the time is awesome. Um, what else?” Peter paused. In the time he stopped talking, he started shivering.

They had progressed outside by then, and it was freezing. It wasn’t snowing, thankfully, but it was cold enough that parts of the sidewalks had become dangerously icy. Stephen frowned. “You need to wear a heavier coat. You’re going to catch something if you keep going out in that.”

Peter looked down at his light jacket. “Huh? Oh, yeah. May keeps telling me that I need to do that, but I sort of forget. I’m not outside that much, so it’s not that bad.”

Stephen stared at him bluntly. “Every walk we take after rehearsal is at least ten minutes or so. It doesn’t take that long to be affected by the cold.” 

“I don’t even really notice it, seriously. Also, I hate wearing those puffy winter coats. They make me feel like a giant marshmallow or something.”

_ I sound so annoying right now, but I hate the idea of him catching a cold because he isn’t wearing enough layers.  _

“Peter.” Stephen’s voice was stern, more serious than it ever was with Peter. “Start wearing heavier coats. This winter is supposed to get much worse before it gets better and it isn’t going to be good for anyone if you end up sick or half-frozen.”

His eyes widened a bit and he straightened up. “Okay, Mr. Strange. I’ll pull my real coat out of my closet when I get home. No worries.” He slouched back to his original position. “Man, you can be kind of scary when you want to be.”

“That’s the point.”

“Speaking of scary, I saw you talking to that lady. Her name’s Wanda, right? Did she ask you to come to her performance too?”   
“She asked you to come?”

“Yeah. I tried to ask her more about it but she walked away before I could get an answer. The paper said it was at a bar, so I wasn’t sure if I could get permission to go.” Peter told him. “But I’m still bummed about missing the Halloween party, so I’m definitely going to try to convince May.”

“You really want to go to a show about the horrors of war that badly?” Stephen asked skeptically.

“Is that what it’s about?” Peter was surprised. “I didn’t know that. Maybe I won’t go. But it sounds fun to go hang out with everyone from the ensemble. Other than Shuri, you, and Mr. Stark, I don’t know anyone as well as I’d like to.”

“You should ask your aunt, then. I think I’m going to go to the one on Friday, so I might see you there?”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes lit up. “That’s awesome. Wait, is Mr. Stark going to be there too?”

_ Tony was so worried about somehow being a disappointment of a mentor to Peter, but the internship has barely started and he already idolizes him even more than he did before.  _

“I’m not sure. I was going to ask him if he wanted to come.” Stephen responded. After a second, he added on, “I’m not very good at texting, so I was putting it off.”

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned. 

“I’ve been working on it, but sometimes I read things and don’t respond. I was told that was rude. I’m probably overly formal as well, without meaning to be.”

Out of nowhere, Peter pulled him aside into a small door alcove of one of the buildings they were passing. 

“Peter?”

“Let me help you write the text. I’m good at that stuff.” Peter explained. “It would have been hard to do while we were walking, but since we stopped, I can totally make it perfect.” There was something else in Peter’s tone that Stephen couldn’t place. 

_ It’s almost like he knows what’s happening with Tony and I and that I’m interested in Tony. No, that couldn’t be. He’s a smart kid, but he usually misses stuff like that by miles. It must be something else.  _

“Are you sure? It’s not a big deal. I was mostly kidding.” Stephen said, feeling awkward that he was enlisting a teenager for help. 

“I don’t mind! Let me see your phone.” Peter held out his hand.

Reluctantly, Stephen took it out, opened his conversation with Tony, and handed it to Peter. Immediately, Peter shook his head. “What are you doing, Mr. Strange? He sent you something a few days ago, and all you responded with was this?” Peter held up the screen to remind Stephen of whatever texting crime he had committed.

TONY: Did you hear about the breakthrough they had in Thailand with synaptic renewal? You probably did, but when I saw this it seemed right up your alley.

TONY SENT A LINK

A day and a half later, Stephen had sent a simple reply back.

STEPHEN: Cool. Thank you. 

“What’s wrong with that? I thanked him for sending it to me.” Stephen crossed his arms. 

“He was totally trying to start a conversation with you! You waited too long to answer, and when you did, you didn’t give him anything to go off of.” Peter said back.

“You’re reading into it that much. I’m sure he has better things to do than text me incessantly.” Stephen was feeling defensive, mostly because he was starting to worry that he had made some kind of grievous social error through his weak response. He’d thought that what he’d sent was fine, considering it was friendly and succinct. It was better than not answering at all, right?

“Even if he’s busy, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to put more effort into how you communicate. I was watching this episode of Dr. Phil the other day and-”

“Not you too.” Stephen muttered, recalling when Wong had brought the man up.

“What?”   


“Nothing.” Stephen cleared his throat. “I don’t hold Dr. Phil in high regard, so it isn’t a good idea to give me advice that you got from him.”

“Okay, well it’s mostly my advice.” Peter shivered again. “Communicating well is really important.”

_ I’m fond of Peter, but I can’t stand a lecture from him when he’s half my age. _

“Are you going to help me write this text or are we going to wait here until you freeze to death?” Stephen asked. 

“Okay.” Peter sighed. “Uh, give me a minute.” He typed a good amount, deleted a little, then typed even more. “How about this?”

Stephen read it out as his eyes moved across the screen. “Hey, are you free next Friday to go to a show? It’s being put on by Wanda from the ensemble, and I think a lot of other people are going. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you, so it could be a lot of fun. I’d love to go with you!”

Peter looked at him expectantly.

He shook his head. “Two things. First of all, it sounds too much like I’m asking him on a...date. I don’t know where you got the part about me wanting to spend more time with him, either. Second, I’m not sure about that exclamation point.”

“Isn’t that what it is? A date?” Peter tilted his head to the side. 

The cold had been getting to Stephen, but the teenager’s question was all it took for his cheeks to heat up. “No. Certainly not. Why do you-It’s not like that at all.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, a skeptical glint in his eye. 

_ Good lord, he is as bad as Wong. I can only hope that they never end up in the same room together, I think that would be the death of me.  _

“Yes, I’m sure.” Stephen crossed his arms. “I’m asking Tony to come because I knew that the others were going. No other reason.”

Peter sighed, and Stephen thought he could detect a trace of disappointment in it. “If you say so. Let me re-work this a little bit.” He deleted a good amount of text and then typed a few words in. 

When Peter held the screen out, Stephen read the new draft aloud. “People are going to Wanda from the ensemble’s show next Friday.” He paused. “That’s it? That’s all you wrote? It’s kind of blunt.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Is there an in-between to me asking him out and me stating a fact? Something subtle?” Stephen asked Peter.

“Jeez, you’re kind of a tough customer. I’ll give it one more try, but if this one doesn’t work, I might just leave you to do it.”   


“That’s fair.” Stephen waited until Peter held up the phone again and read out the text. “Me and some others are going to a show being put on by Wanda from the ensemble next Friday. You should come.”

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” Stephen nodded. “It’s great.”

Peter handed the phone back to him. “Here. You should send it.”

Stephen did, and stowed his phone away in his pocket immediately after. “Thank you, Peter. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Hopefully I’ll be there too.” Peter moved back out onto the sidewalk and Stephen followed him. “Hey, Mr. Strange?”

“Yes?”

“If you ever did want to talk about anything involving Mr. Stark, I could totally keep it on the down low. Just because I’m interning for him doesn’t mean I talk to him about everything.” There was a mischievous lilt in Peter’s tone.

__ _ Now that he thinks he knows what’s going on, he’s all grinning and smug. Of course. It’s kind of endearing. He doesn’t have much to be smug about right now. For now, Tony and I are only friends.  _

He knew that if he argued it would only make things worse, so Stephen just kept his eyes trained ahead and nodded. “Okay, Peter.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see Peter glancing at him periodically like he knew an important secret that no one else did. 

***

Tony replied with a yes in less than an hour. It made Stephen’s heart flutter, and lifted his spirits in general. He had something to look forward to. For the next days, it was what he held onto while in the final preparation for his research proposal. It was nice to have something that he could anticipate other than work. 

On the Friday of Wanda’s show, Stephen arrived at the offices of the organization that he was trying to get funding from. He brought a laptop and a PowerPoint presentation with him, but he was betting on his own explanation of his research plan to cinch the deal. He felt lucky to be presenting to this specific organization, considering their prominence and reputation for funding groundbreaking projects.

_ I’m no nobody either, though. That was likely why they were so friendly after my initial request to meet with them.  _

__ Stephen had worked harder on this proposal than he’d ever worked on any other funding request. If he were as self-assured as he presented himself, he wouldn’t have been worried at all. But he wasn’t, and a shred of doubt resided in him. He tried to ignore it as he introduced himself to a few of the executives of the organization and started in on his PowerPoint. 

It was over in no time. Everything had gone as he’d been planning it to, which was why he was surprised when the woman who was the highest ranking out of the executives started speaking. 

“This was great, but I’m not sure if…”

He stopped listening after that, and it was all he could do to keep a professional face on. It made no sense to him why they would reject him, especially with the attention his research could bring their organization. It was like he had penciled in all the right answers and gotten his results back as a zero.

On the train ride back to his apartment, with his bag sitting in his lap, he leaned his head against the window. It was cold. Unsanitary too, but he was so out of it that he didn’t even care.

_ I failed. They didn’t give me the money. How is that possible? _

Sitting alone, he wished that he had someone to talk to. No, not someone. There was a very specific person he wished he could see. 

_ I wonder how bad it would be if I didn’t show up to Wanda’s show tonight. I’m sure if I told Tony why, he wouldn’t care. But he’d try to comfort me. That might be even worse. I couldn’t stand any pity from him.  _

He ran through his presentation over and over again, searching for whatever error had lost him the money. He couldn’t find one. The few times he had considered a denial from the organization, he had thought he would feel angry about it. Now, all he could feel was sadness. The time he had spent preparing had practically been wasted.

_ I can re-tool the proposal and find someone else to take it, probably. It isn’t about that, though. It’s about why they would reject me in the first place. Ugh, I feel like shit.  _

When he got home, he threw his bag on his living room table and flopped down onto the couch. His phone was heavy in his pocket, and he couldn’t decide whether or not to take it out and make some excuse about why he couldn’t come. He closed his eyes while he thought about it, and before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep. 

_ If I can’t be successful at the field I’m supposed to be an expert in, how can I succeed at anything else? Is that all I am? A series of mistakes and failures that I have to pretend don’t hurt, when they really do?  _

***

He slept for five and a half hours in an awkward position that made his back ache, but the rest was good. When he woke up, he had the horrible taste in his mouth that usually appeared after a nap. As he got up to pour himself a glass of water, his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

_ How long did I sleep?  _

He pulled out his phone to read the notification that was displayed. 

TONY: I’m leaving now. I’ll see you there?

_ Oh no. I must have been out for a while. I never told him that I didn’t want to come either. If I say something now, I’ll seem like a total asshole. Does that mean I have to go to this? Why do I get myself into these situations?  _

Stephen slurped down his glass of tap water greedily, silently berating himself for still not buying any Brita filters. 

_ I really should tell him that I’m not coming. It would probably be better, all things considered. If I show up, I’m going to be a walking cloud of negative emotion. It’s not like I need even more of a reputation as a dick in the ensemble.  _

Setting the glass down forcefully, Stephen pondered what it would be like if he stayed at home for the rest of the night. Any way he looked at it, it would be miserable. 

_ I’ll go. I’ll go and I’ll watch the play or whatever it is. It might make me feel better to get out. Okay, no it won’t, but it’s better than being at home alone. I’ll get to see Tony, too. That could help.  _

Stephen typed a text back to Tony carefully. 

STEPHEN: Sure, see you soon. 

Almost immediately, Tony sent a smiley-face emoji back. Stephen stared at it for a moment before dropping his phone and walking the few feet to his tiny bedroom and even tinier closet. 

He changed clothes as fast as he could manage, fighting the sluggishness that came from just having woken up. He was out the door a few minutes later. He was still so upset that his stomach was actively churning. Drinking, or even eating much seemed out of the question. 

The bar that Wanda was performing in was close enough that he could walk, so he braved the cold. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but part of the reason why he walked instead of taking the short train ride was because he wanted to punish himself with the bracing winds. Doing anything for himself felt wrong when he was burdened with the knowledge of his failure. 

_ This is going to be miserable, I can already tell. I don’t think Wanda’s narrative of the carnage of war is going to help much, either.  _

When he made it to the venue and paid the entry fee, the show was already in progress. Thankfully, it was much less formal than he had anticipated. The whole place was old and worn, with booths lining the walls and small square tables taking up almost every other inch of floor space. The woman of the hour, Wanda, was in the middle of a small stage at the back of the room perched atop a stool with a somber expression on her face. Her voice rang through the space, but she was competing with a low layer of whispers and chatter. Some of the people in the audience weren’t even faking paying attention, which made Stephen feel a little sorry for her.

Wanda’s eyes locked with Stephen as he weaved through the tables, looking for familiar faces, and narrowed slightly. She didn’t look happy at his late arrival. More specifically, her narrowed eyes were shooting him something only describable as a death glare. He stopped feeling bad for her.

_ She should be happy I showed up at all. Oh, there’s Tony, with Natasha. And on the other side is...Thor and Clint. I’m not going to live through tonight, am I?  _

They were in a booth, and Stephen hesitated before he went over. With four people already in the booth, there wouldn’t be much room for him. A few other people from the MPO were scattered around at various tables, but he didn’t see Peter anywhere. 

_ If there isn’t room to sit with Tony, I might just sit by myself. I’m not sure I could handle much polite chit-chat without losing my mind.  _

Before he could turn to find another spot to sit alone and stew in his own thoughts, Tony caught his eye and waved him over.

“Hey, Doc! I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.” Tony grinned at him, his voice a half-whisper. He was at least pretending to show respect to the performer on stage by keeping his voice low.

“I got caught up.” Stephen said back quietly. 

“Sit next to me.” Tony pushed Natasha into the wall and patted the spot beside him. 

“You’re fucking crushing me, Stark.” Natasha complained. 

“I can find somewhere else.” Stephen frowned. “If there isn’t enough room, that is.”

“There’s totally enough room.” Tony said, speaking over Natasha’s complaints. 

Stephen looked to Natasha. “Should I find somewhere else?”

She rolled her eyes, but shook her head. “Sit down before I change my mind.”

Stephen did. His shoulder was pressed right up next to Tony’s. It reminded him of when they had sat together on the bench after the charity event, though it was distinctly less comfortable. 

“Why’d you get caught up?” Tony asked him. “Work stuff?” 

Normally the innocent question wouldn’t have bothered Stephen, but now it made him bristle. With how bad he felt about losing the grant, the last thing he wanted to think about was work. 

_ Not thinking about work was the whole reason I came to this stupid thing. _

“It wasn’t anything serious.” Stephen said with an edge in his voice. 

Tony got the hint and changed the subject. “I don’t think Wanda likes me very much.”    


Natasha snorted. “Newsflash.”

“I mean, she didn’t even give me an invitation herself.” Tony continued. “And she invited everybody. She went out of her way to talk to Clint, for Christ’s sake!”

“Hey.” Clint frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Tony said airily. “It’s just weird that she seems to hate you too but made time to talk to you. She must hate me more. Why, what does it seem like it’s supposed to mean.”

“I don’t know, it just felt like an insult.” Clint said.

“It was, a little bit.” Tony put on a faux-whisper. “I have this theory that the more I make fun of you, the more I can get Natasha to like me.” Tony looked to Natasha. “Is it working?”

A ghost of a smile was present on Natasha’s lips. “No, but keep trying.”

“Tash’!” Clint exclaimed, outraged. 

Stephen felt tired despite how he’d slept through the afternoon, and being around others who seemed as energetic as ever wasn’t helping. He stifled a yawn and stared blankly at the table in front of him. Spotting a bowl in front of Thor filled with a heap of peanuts, his stomach rumbled. 

“Hey, Thor.” Stephen said softly. “Do you mind if I have a few?”

“Absolutely not, my good doctor!” Thor boomed loudly. Multiple heads at other tables turned in their direction. “Help yourself!”

Stephen accepted the bowl of peanuts slid his way, trying to ignore the sudden heat of Wanda’s menacing look.    


Clint patted Thor’s arm. “Volume control, dude.”

“I apologize!” Thor said, not much quieter.

Stephen crunched into a peanut. “Ugh, these are too salty.”

“I always thought those were more of a prop than anything else.” Clint observed. “Who actually wants to stick their hand into a grimy bowl filled with stale peanuts that could have been in there for years? Uh, no offense.”

“I’m hungry.” Stephen responded with a shrug, staring down at the bowl. 

“Have you eaten much today?” Tony asked, with a hint of concern. 

The way he said it irked Stephen. What did Tony care if he had eaten? It wasn’t Tony’s job to check up on him. He could handle himself. He bit back a icy reply in favor of a deflection. “I ate breakfast.”

“That’s it? No wonder you’re grumpy. Okay, after this thing is over, we can go somewhere to get you some real food.” Tony said. 

_ Does he mean with the others or the two of us alone, like more of a...nevermind. I’m not sure if I could do that. I only just got here and I already want to leave.  _

Stephen had miscalculated how seeing other people would impact his emotions. Instead of taking his mind off of what had happened with his research proposal, it was making him think about it even more. He couldn’t force a friendly attitude, and he was sure that the others were picking up on his sullen mood. The only remotely comforting thing about the whole situation was the soft pressure of Tony’s shoulder pressing into his side. 

“That’s not necessary.” Stephen said to Tony.

“Yeah it is.” Tony sounded even more concerned. “I don’t want you to-”

“Tony! I’m fine.” Stephen snapped, annoyed by how he felt the other man was treating him. He registered the way Tony’s face tightened and immediately regretted the outburst, but Tony stopped talking. 

Clint cut in. It was hard to tell if he had picked up on the tension and was pivoting the conversation in a new direction or if he was oblivious to it all. “I’m kind of bummed at what this turned out to be. When Wanda told me she was doing a comedy show, I was pretty excited.”

Natasha sipped her drink. “Obviously, she felt she had to lure you in under false pretenses or else you wouldn’t come. She’s smart for that. You aren’t known for your attention span.”

“Maybe not, but you can’t blame me for not wanting to watch something this depressing.” Clint frowned.

“You’re not even watching it. You’re talking through it.” Stephen commented, again hearing how irritated he sounded. He couldn’t help it. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. I’ll be quiet.” Clint responded.

“No.” Stephen shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I just...I apologize. I’m not in a good mood today.” 

“I could kind of tell.” Tony nodded. “It’s cool. It’s probably better if we shut up for a while anyways, considering Wanda is giving us a stink eye.”

_ Still? It’s impressive that she can keep it going for so long.  _

So, they were mostly silent through the rest of the performance. It couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, but it dragged on for what felt like forever. Stephen kept getting hungrier, and was on the receiving end of a worried glance from Tony when his stomach growled loud enough to be heard. 

For a few seconds right after Wanda finished, there was an unsure silence as people weren’t sure if she was done. She stared the audience down until they broke out into applause. She gave a curt bow, and had something approaching a happy expression as she was basking in the spotlight. Once people stopped clapping, they went back to their own conversations, and the volume level skyrocketed. That was when the happy expression dropped off her face and she walked off the stage, directly towards Stephen’s table. 

“When I asked you to come, I mentioned that I needed you to fill seats.” She crossed her arms as she glared at each of them in turn. “I wasn’t asking for that much. But still you found a way to be rude. You talked through half of the show.”   


Clint scratched his chin. “Uh, sorry?”

“You should be.” Wanda turned to Tony. “And you. Who do you think you are, showing up here and being so disrespectful?”   


Stephen cut in. “You asked me to invite him. Why are you complaining?”

Tony looked between Wanda and Stephen, his eyes narrowing. “Wait. You wanted me to be here?” He asked Wanda.

She paused momentarily. “Well, I-yes. I figured you might get me more audience members with how well-known you are. It seems you couldn’t even do that.”

Tony laughed. “If you had just told me that you wanted me to get people to show up, I could have gotten that done for you. I don’t know what it is you have against me, but I don’t have any problems with you.”

“What do I have against you? You’re responsible for countless deaths around the world and your company is responsible for numerous other offenses against people.”   


Tony stiffened. “Stark Industries doesn’t sell weapons anymore. Look, I’m also sorry that we talked through your show tonight. That was rude. Don’t think that I don’t know what’s going on in Sokovia, either. I have a hand in a few aid organizations that are trying to assist civilians there.”

_ He does? He wouldn’t lie about that. For someone who’s helping so many charitable causes, he almost never talks about it.  _

__ Wanda looked as if she had been ready to start in on another tirade, but stopped. “Seriously? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t make how we acted tonight any better, but it’s something. Also, I get the whole thing about being anti-rich people. We’re assholes.”   
Nodding, Wanda said, “Yes. You are, and donating to a million charities won’t change that. But, I appreciate that you showed up.”

“Of course! You know, when I actually started listening, I was pretty hooked. Seeing a narrative told through poetry and one-person scenes might be a hard sell, but you pulled it off.”

“Thank you.” Wanda was clearly doing her best not to sound flattered.    


“Your story was truly wonderful!” Thor clapped his hand down on the table, causing a loud boom to resonate. “Tragic, but wonderful! I was completely enthralled.”

Wanda eyed him a bit warily, but gave a small smile in return. “Thanks.”

“I liked it too.” Natasha added. “It would be amazing if you could incorporate some visuals into it to back what you’re speaking about. Unless you were going for the minimalist aesthetic.”

“No, most of the reason why it was so sparse is because I had to do everything myself.” Wanda admitted. “I would like to do a more involved performance, but it’s not possible for me at this point.”

Stephen noticed Tony move slightly next to him. “Okay, I just had an idea.” Tony spoke. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, but I think it could be cool. I’ve been investing a lot more into the arts recently, and this is exactly the kind of thing that I would love to give a larger platform. You have so much to say, and it feels wrong that people aren’t hearing it.”

Wanda perked up, but retained some of that aloofness she always had. “That’s funny, considering you were one of the ones who wasn’t hearing it, since you were talking.”

Tony held up his hands. “Yeah, you got me there. Still, I thought we could partner to get this thing out there more. You can finish your shows this weekend, and then if you want, we could look into a more high-profile stage.”

“Really?” Wanda seemed skeptical, like she couldn’t believe it.

“Really. I’ll let you keep creative control, just let me handle the money stuff.”   


“What’s in this for you?” Wanda asked. 

“What’s in this for me is making up for being an asshole and getting the word out about something serious more people should know about.” Tony shrugged. “And I don’t know you well enough to call you a friend, but I’d like to.”

“Is the way you usually befriend people is by bribing them?” 

Tony chuckled. “No, but I get the feeling that my trademark Stark charm might be a little lacking when it comes to you. You don’t have to tell me yes, or even give me an answer right now. Just think about it.”

Wanda responded instantly. “Yes. I’ll take your money. It’s for a good cause, after all. I would be stupid not to.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What happened to all executives in capitalistic macro-corporations being evil?”

“Shut up.” Wanda glowered at him. “Stark, I’ll be in touch. You had better not end up be pulling some kind of prank on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Tony replied. When Wanda gave him an incredulous look, he continued, “Well, not about anything this serious.”

Looking around behind her, Wanda sighed. “I need to go talk to other people who came. It was tolerable seeing you all.”

“Hey, wait!” Clint exclaimed before she could leave. “If you’re going to switch some stuff up when you do the show again, could I make some suggestions?”

“No.” She answered.

He went on. “I sort of get why you didn’t want to incorporate any comedy into it now. It would be distasteful. But what would you think about adding in a musical number?”

“Goodbye.” Wanda left, not even entertaining Clint’s idea, and headed off into the crowd.

“A musical number?” Natasha asked. “Are you kidding?”

“No.” Clint said back. “But since no one seems receptive to my genius, I’ll be quiet now.”

“That sounds amazing, but I doubt that it’ll last for long.” Natasha finished whatever was in her glass and sighed. “It never does.”

The conversation got going again from there, and they spent another hour or so talking about anything that came to mind. Stephen was silent for most of it, despite the openings that Tony kept offering to start talking. His foul mood didn’t disappear, but it lessened slightly over the time. When Thor told them he was leaving and Clint and Natasha indicated they would soon be doing the same, he shrugged his coat back on and started to mentally prepare for his trek home. He assumed it was even more cold outside than when he had come, so he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Hey,” Tony said. “You’re still hungry.” It was less of a question and more of a statement, one Stephen wasn’t sure how to respond to.

“I told you that I’m fine, Tony. I should just go home.”

Tony had a mischievous look on his face, one that Stephen would have taken the time to find a secret enjoyment in if he wasn’t so down. “You could do that. Or you could grab a late dinner with me.”

“I can eat once I get back to my apartment.” Stephen asserted. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to keep himself together if he was out for much longer, and he didn’t want Tony to see him lose his composure any more than he already had.

Tony’s face fell. “Are you sure? I had a place picked out already. It wouldn’t be any trouble for me, and it would be totally low-key. I get it if you’re tired, though.”

_ I might feel bad, but what does passing up this opportunity mean? Will he take it as a rejection if I say no? Is he even reading as much into it as I am? _

The only thing that had made Stephen feel even a tiny bit better about losing the grant the whole day was being next to Tony. He didn’t want to disappoint the other man, and he knew he might regret it if he really said no. “I changed my mind. I’ll go.” He told Tony, and reveled in the way the billionaire immediately started grinning.

“Great.” He looked up at Stephen, who had gotten up to stand. “Hey, did you really only invite me because Wanda asked you to?”

Stephen shook his head. “No. Obviously not.”   


“Oh, okay. Good.” He grinned even more. 

***

The restaurant that Tony took him to wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t run-down either. It was a good distance from where Wanda had performed, so it took them awhile to get there, but Tony repeatedly assured Stephen that it was worth it. Even though it was on the later side, Stephen had expected the place to be closer to full, but was pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t. 

They sat down at a booth near the back that was fairly secluded. Menus were already laying on the table, so Stephen picked one up and started skimming it. He didn’t take in much of what he read. His mind was more focused on how all signs were pointing to this being more than a dinner between friends. He didn’t want to assume anything for fear of being wrong, but it was hard not to. 

Reading the menu also meant he wasn’t in any danger of being caught staring at Tony, which was helpful. Now that he was alone with the man and sitting across from him, all he wanted to do was drink in the sight of him. His artfully disheveled hair, his neatly trimmed beard and the ever so-slight slouch in his posture. All of it. 

_ I haven’t felt this strongly attracted to someone in a long time. Part of it is his looks, but that’s not all. His looks didn’t give me that much pause when we first met. It’s like now that I know him better, now that I can see him for who he really is, he’s even more appealing. _

“You know why I took you here, right?” Tony asked, drawing Stephen out of his thoughts. 

Stephen hoped the momentary flash of panic he felt didn’t show on his face. Was that a rhetorical question? Was Tony admitting that they were on a date? 

He gave a slight shake of his head.

Tony leaned forward, putting his elbow to the table and propping up his chin on his hand. “To get you a cheeseburger. Obviously. You didn’t think I was going to forget about your indiscretion of disliking the best food ever created, did you?”

“Oh.” That made more sense. “No, I guess not. Do you recommend anything from here?” 

“Personally, I would tell you to get the Western Burger or the Mondo-Super Triple Deluxe.” Tony advised.

Stephen shot him with a flat stare. “Didn’t I also tell you when we were talking about getting burgers that I was opposed to ones with stupid names and more than one patty?”

“That you did. Okay, let me think. What about the Old-Fashioned Classic?”   
Stephen glanced at the menu again. The Old-Fashioned Classic was a simple one patty burger on a sesame bun with pickles, onions, and a secret sauce. “That’s more simple than I would have thought you would go for.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m not getting it. I think you’d like it, though. Their secret sauce is amazing. It’s part of the reason why I come here so often.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Often enough that I could tell you the menu without looking at it.” Tony responded.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t had a heart attack yet.” Stephen deadpanned.

“I eat vegetables!” Tony protested. “Sometimes. I’m trying to be healthier, but it’s hard to kick old habits, y’know?”   


“I understand.” Stephen set down the menu. His eyes strayed to the open collar of Tony’s shirt, which was showcasing part of his neck. In Stephen’s opinion, Tony’s neck had no right to be as sexy as it was, and he had to force himself to stop staring.

“Do you ever think about working a little less?” Tony’s question came out of the blue.

_ What? Why does he want to know? _

“Erm, no. Why would I?” Stephen asked.

“Every time I see you, you always look like you’re running on two hours of sleep. It must be hard to be so exhausted all the time.”

_ Here he goes again. He doesn’t need to do this. I’m fine, and if he would listen to me when I say that I’m fine, he would know that. _

“I knew what I was signing up for when I became a surgeon. I care about the work I do, and my personal life is less of a priority than my professional one.” Stephen said back curtly. 

“I get that you care, but-” Tony stopped speaking, seemingly trying to find the right words to express whatever he was thinking. “I mean, how would you feel if you saw me functioning at ten-percent all the time?”

“I’m not functioning at ten-percent all the time.” Stephen looked away.

“Answer the question, Doc.

Stephen sighed. “Fine. If I saw you constantly exhibiting symptoms of fatigue, I would be worried about you and I would talk to you about it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing to you now.” Tony cared. Stephen knew that, and yet, him even caring enough to bring it up was an intrusion. 

“I don’t appreciate it.” Stephen replied, still looking away.

Tony let out a breath. “Sorry, I guess. Look, maybe I was projecting. I used to be the worst workaholic ever. I get how sometimes it’s like your work is so important that it trumps everything else in your life, but you have to set limits. Do you remember that thing I said about knowing when to be stupid and have fun, even when you’re a genius? It’s like that.”

“And you think I’m a miserable workaholic who doesn’t know how to have fun?” 

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re a lot less miserable than when I met you.” Tony said with a playful grin. “I’m sure you know how to have fun, too. Sometimes you just forget to do it.”

“Isn’t that what this is, right now? Us having fun?” Stephen sounded utterly childish, he could tell. But he was confused as to what Tony wanted from him. 

“This is fun, but it’s also me tricking you into eating because I knew you were hungry.” 

“I was going to eat when I got home. I told you that.” Stephen complained.

“Were you?” Tony questioned, staring him down.

_ I wasn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. I was thinking I would get a glass of water before going to bed. Making food is too much effort.  _

Stephen was saved having to choose between lying and admitting that Tony was right when the waitress walked up. She was wearing an atrocious yellow and red uniform and looked like she wanted to kill both of them for even daring to walk in and attempt ordering food. “Your order?” 

Tony rattled off his order, and Stephen followed. Upon Tony’s insistence, he got the sweet potato fries instead of the regular ones and a large Sprite. Stephen wasn’t a fan of soda, but Tony believed that if you didn’t have the right beverage, a whole meal could be ruined. Because of course he was. Who else had such adamant opinions on diner meals?

As soon as the waitress left, Tony was back at it. “I’m not going to bug you too much about self-care, because I know how annoying that can be. I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I won’t. I’ve been in my line of work long enough to know how much is too much.” Stephen had made pushing himself to the brink an art with his long shifts and almost non-existent vacation time.

_ I’m not sure how I can convince him that I’m nothing to be concerned about. Maybe I should change the subject.  _

“That was kind, what you did for Wanda.” 

“You think so?” Tony leaned back into the booth behind him. “I thought it was about the only decent thing to do. Besides, her performance was good. I think if it was polished it could actually do really well.”

“But you knew how much she disliked you, right? I wouldn’t have done something like that for someone who was telling me what they thought of me to my face.” Stephen said.

“It didn’t faze me. There are always people who are dicks to me because of my money or my family name. It’s not really much to complain about. I’ve gotten good at telling who’s worth my time.” Tony gave him a knowing grin.

“Hey.” Stephen objected. “If that was about me, I was never cruel to you because of your status. It was only because you were unbearable to be around.”

“Were? Past tense? So I’m not unbearable anymore?” Tony sounded gleeful. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

“I’m probably going to be even more unbearable when I get that solo.” Tony teased him. “I’ve been practicing.”

“So have I. I’m not sure how long Fury is going to make us wait to find out who gets to play it, but it won’t matter. It’s going to be me.” Stephen had been going over the solo every time he got out his violin to practice, and it was getting to the point where he wouldn’t have been shocked if he started hearing it in his dreams. 

“You’re adorable when you get all competitive.” Tony snorted. 

Stephen’s heart leapt. That had to be Tony flirting. There was almost no other way to interpret it. He was at a loss for what to say back. 

_ He plays around with everyone, so is he just joking with me, or does he mean it?  _

On one level, Stephen knew that he had been given enough signs to make the assumption that Tony was interested in him romantically. However, the idea was so overwhelming that it was hard for him to grasp. He was barely dealing with his own feelings, and knowing that Tony might really feel that way for him was hard to process. 

Stephen was again saved by the waitress, who walked up with their drinks. She informed them on how long they would have to wait for their food, and was off again quickly. By then, the moment had passed, so Stephen moved on. 

When their food finally came, both of them dug in right away. Tony hadn’t been lying, the burger was good. Stephen wasn’t sure it was the best thing he had ever eaten as Tony had been claiming it would be, but it was good. Somewhere around his third bite of it, he had a realization.

_ I haven’t thought about the grant the whole time that I’ve been here.  _

Remembering why he had been so upset earlier put a scowl on his face. It was like an undesirable piece of the real world had invaded whatever escape he was taking part in with Tony. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony questioned around a mouthful of the burger he had ordered, which was dubbed “The Meat-zilla” by the menu. 

“Nothing. I just forgot that I was supposed to be in a bad mood until now.”

Tony laughed. “I must be doing something right. Why are you supposed to be in a bad mood? You never told me what happened with you today.”   


Stephen frowned and picked up a fry.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Tony said. 

“No, I think I will.” Stephen said after a short silence. “It might be good to talk with someone about it. I had a big presentation today for a grant that would mean I’d be able to start work on a new research project. I’ve been prepping for it for months, and I thought I was ready. They said no and I didn’t get the money. I was sure that I had it on lock, so I was upset.”

“They said no to you?” Tony sounded angry on Stephen’s behalf. “Are they idiots or something? I know that you don’t half-ass anything when it comes to your work, so I can’t imagine anyone turning you down.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t either.” Stephen ate the fry he had been staring at. “That’s why I was so put off. I still am.

“What is the research going to be about?”   


“It’s about speeding up the process for healing nerve damage.” Stephen answered. 

“You’re one of the best in your field. This makes no sense to me.” Tony grumbled. “They should be begging to work with you.”

“It is what it is.” Stephen could see the gears turning in Tony’s mind, but he wasn’t sure where it was going to lead. “I’ll just have to work harder and find someone else who’ll fund me.”

He saw Tony’s face light up. “About that. What if...I helped you with the money? I’m sure it would end up being worthwhile, and I would be lucky to help in any way that I could.”   


Stephen hated the idea immediately. He wondered if Tony thought that he had been asking for a handout. He hadn’t meant to imply that he was doing so, and the very idea that the other man could have taken it that way made him sick. 

“No. I don’t need your help with this.” His tone was sharp, too sharp.

“Why not?” Tony didn’t back down. “This is the perfect solution to your problem. I don’t mind, Stephen. I really don’t.” 

_ He called me Stephen.  _

“I know you don’t. I mind. I wasn’t trying to ask you for help, if that’s the way you interpreted it. I can manage on my own.”

Tony was frustrated. “We established that you can manage on your own and that you don’t need my help. But I’m offering. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just convenient.”

Stephen looked Tony dead in the eye. “I appreciate the offer, but no.”   


“Why?” Tony shot back. “Why are you saying no?”

“Isn’t it enough that I am? Why do you need to know the reason?”   


“Because you shot me down when I asked if you were doing okay in general, and now that I’m giving you a legitimate solution to something that’s bugging you, you’re not even considering it.” 

“I’m not considering it because it isn’t necessary.” Stephen wanted to put the conversation to rest, but Tony wasn’t having it. 

“It won’t make things weird between us.” Tony said. “I’m supporting your research because I know it matters.”

“But you wouldn’t be giving me any money if I didn’t know you, would you? You’re doing it because we’re on good terms. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Who is it unfair to? I want to help you.” Tony was looking back at him, and Stephen realized that they’d been staring each other down for a good half a minute by that point. He looked away. 

“Drop it, Tony.” 

“No, I’m not going to drop it.” Tony continued. “I genuinely don’t get why this is such a big deal.”

“I genuinely don’t get why you care about this so much!” Stephen raised his voice. “I’m not Wanda, and you don’t need to buy my favor. I honestly don’t understand why you’re making this your business!”

Tony went silent, and Stephen couldn’t look at him. 

_ Was that too far? _ _   
_

“You really don’t get it?” Tony asked slowly. 

Stephen shook his head. “No!”

“I’m not trying to buy your favor, Stephen.” Tony said. “I’m doing this because I care about you and I don’t like seeing you sad when you deserve better. You’re my friend…and I like you. In that way. I thought you knew that.”

There was no way to read Tony’s words other than what they were. A confession. Stephen braced himself and looked at the other man. Tony appeared pained and worked up. Stephen hated that he was responsible for that. 

_ He feels the same as I do. I know that now. I can’t...I can’t even process that.  _

Stephen’s body went on autopilot. His brain was screaming at him to say something back, anything. He couldn’t, though. This was too much, too fast. The imagined idea of being with Tony had suddenly become a very real possibility. He stood up abruptly. “I-Tony-I don’t-”

Tony’s expression was crushed for a second at what he read as a rejection, but then he tried to hide it behind a very forced, sad smile. “It’s fine, Doc. I thought you knew that I felt…” He cleared his throat. “That way about you, but I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, I-” Stephen couldn’t even get out a full sentence. 

_ Tell him! Tell him! Tell him! Say it! Say that you like him too! _

The words Stephen was screaming in his head wouldn’t come out of his throat. It reminded him of how he had been in the immediate years after the loss of his sister. He couldn’t say anything. No words would come to him. He had thought he was past this, and he hadn’t experienced an inability to speak in years. 

_ I must look like a fish gasping for air right now. I must look like an idiot. I can’t do this. I want to tell him, but I can’t. This is too much. This is all too much.  _

“Sit back down and finish your food.” Tony told him. “I know I probably ruined the meal, but that burger is too good to let go to waste.”

He wanted to. He really did, but sometimes Stephen couldn’t get himself to do what he wanted, no matter how much he wanted it. 

The first words he was able to choke out were the wrong ones, and he hated them, but they were the only ones that would come. “I-I have to go. I have to go home. I’m sorry.”

Though he hadn’t thought it was possible for Tony to look any more crestfallen, he did. “Okay. I don’t want this to change things between us. Really, I don’t. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Stephen numbly took out his wallet and placed a twenty dollar-bill on the table. “Here. For the food. I’ll-I’ll see you later.”

Tony didn’t look at him. “Doc, I-”   


He started walking, moving in the opposite direction of the table. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. It was almost like he wasn’t seeing anything in front of him, with how intensely his thoughts were ricocheting through his head. He regretted leaving without telling Tony that he felt the same way more than he could fathom, but the only thing he could do was run away. It was too much, too fast. He berated himself over and over.

_ What’s wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just be honest? It’s like it’s impossible for me to be vulnerable with anyone, and I hate it. I’m a broken person. Maybe it’s better for him if I don’t tell him how I feel.  _

The cold night air met Stephen as he forcefully pushed open the door to leave out onto the street, but it didn’t give him a clearer head. He was too far gone by that point, drowning in his own self-pity and fighting a losing battle with the anxiety that had snuck up on him from out of nowhere. 

For the first time in years, Stephen felt like crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agggh there he goes. Stephen is very hesitant about opening up, clearly. This will become more apparent in later chapters, I'm sure. It isn't easy to get over self-doubt. Also, I'm glad I was able to incorporate Wanda, even this chapter might be her only major appearance. I'm pretty busy right now but I hope to update again in the next few weeks. I hoped you liked the chapter, and feel free to leave a comment if you did! They always make my days brighter.


	9. Snow Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all, sorry I didn't update for so long. my life got kind of busy and I was struggling with a lot of writer's block with this story. sometimes my writing goes in a different direction than I originally intend, which happened with this and it kind of threw me off.

Stephen ran through what had happened at the restaurant over and over in his head. Even if he had wanted to stop analyzing it, he couldn’t have. He could think of a million things that he should have said to Tony, but it was too late.

_ I ruined it all. Why couldn’t I just have spoken? Why couldn’t I say anything? _

He tried a good number of things to escape the funk he was stuck in during the few days after the incident. Throwing himself into work only made him more tired, and thus more emotionally unstable. When Stephen was really truly exhausted, minor inconveniences could turn into day-ruining occurrences. 

Picking up his violin and trying to lose himself in the music was a complete failure too. Playing just made him think of Tony. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he had become to playing next to Tony in rehearsals. His one attempt at practicing the solo had ended in him stowing away his instrument for the day with a sad expression on his face. 

The date of the next rehearsal loomed large in his mind. He would be forced to see Tony then, no matter what, and he couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

_ I want to talk to him. I want to explain how I’m feeling. But...at the same time, I know that as soon as I try, the words will evaporate into thin air and I’ll be left stuttering and moronic. _

He finally gave in and called Wong after a particularly horrible ten-hour long surgery. It had ended all right for the patient, but it had left him dead on his feet. The thought of putting together anything to eat that night was too much for him to deal with. He’d been wanting to talk to Wong about what had happened since right after everything had gone down, but he’d restrained himself.

Stephen didn’t want to always be reliant on other people to help him work through his problems. Using Wong as a crutch to deal with his relationship with Tony felt wrong. He was a grown man, and he shouldn’t let his emotions make him so helpless. 

Having thoughts filled with self-hatred rattle around his head so often got old quickly, though, and he realized that he wasn’t going to find any clarity on the situation by himself. Plus, he really wanted to eat some of Wong’s food.

_ Despite how much he brags about it, he really can cook.  _

Wong showed up to Stephen’s apartment within an hour, toting along with him three plastic bags full of ingredients. As soon as he laid eyes on Stephen, he set the bags down. “Okay, what’s wrong? I thought that you sounded off on the phone, but this is clearly more than I prepared for.”

Stephen had thought he’d been doing a good job of holding it together, at least outwardly. “I’m doing all right. What do you mean?”

“You’re still wearing your work clothes, and you’re splayed out on the couch like you just got hit by a train. You are not all right.”

“Stuff happened with Tony.” Stephen said quietly. 

“Ah. I should have figured that’s what this was about.” Wong furrowed his brow. “We’ll discuss it, but first you should go change. Splash some water on your face too. It’ll make you feel fresher.”

Stephen did as he was told, taking his time changing into a T-Shirt and a pair of ratty sweatpants. The water on his face did not make him feel fresher, but he did it anyway. When he emerged again, Wong had two pots of whatever he was making simmering on the stove and something in the oven. 

“That was fast.” Stephen commented.

“It’ll be a while longer before it’s ready.” Wong motioned to one of the chairs by the small kitchen table. “Sit down and explain.”

After he sat, Stephen was silent for a good two minutes. Wong didn’t say anything else, just waiting for Stephen to speak while tending to the food he was making. Wong must have known how hard it was for Stephen to talk about how he was feeling, even to his closest friend. 

“We got in a fight because he was insisting on helping to fund my research project.” Stephen eventually said. It wasn’t the heart of the issue, but it was a start.

“Why would he offer you money? I thought you were getting it from that one group.” Wong asked, confused.

“They denied me.” Stephen mumbled. “And then I stupidly let Tony know what happened. He wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t asking for his help, but that’s how he seemed to see it.”

“First, I’m sorry they didn’t give you the funds. I’m surprised by that, and I think it says more about them than it does about you. Second, have you considered that he really wanted to help you? I don’t think he would offer to help you out of pity.”

“Maybe he did really want to, but he wouldn’t move on when I told him that I didn’t need help.”

“And then what?” Wong questioned. “I’m sensing that there’s more to this.” 

Stephen paused again, but for a shorter period of time.

“He told me he liked me. Romantically.” Stephen eventually said.

Wong didn’t turn around from the stove. “Why is that a bad thing? I thought that was what we wanted to happen.”

“It was. It is. It’s just...how I reacted to it.”

“Did you tell him that you didn’t feel the same way?” Wong asked.

“No, not that. Not exactly. I sort of freaked out and ran away.” Stephen told him. “I panicked. It’s my own fault, honestly.”

“How did he react to you panicking?” Wong probed.

“I wasn’t really around long enough to see, but he looked upset. I think he thought that I was uncomfortable because I didn’t feel the same way.”

“It seems like there’s an easy solution here.” Wong said.

Stephen frowned.  _ What easy solution? I’ve thought about this from a million different angles and there’s no way to reverse how much I messed up. _

“All you have to do is be honest with him.” Wong continued. “Tell him that you like him and that you were overwhelmed when he told you.”

“It’s too late for that. He might resent me now for the way I reacted. Also, I’m not sure if I could tell him. I don’t do that kind of thing.”   


“It isn’t too late for anything, and I doubt he’s angry at you.” Wong took the lid off one of the pots and gave what was inside a stir. “And tell me, how did you end up dating Christine? There must have been some admission of feelings that you made then. It isn’t impossible for you to do.”

“There weren’t that many feelings involved. Not on my side, anyway.” Stephen regretted how the whole relationship had turned out, and looking back, he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to it in the first place. “It was convenient, so it happened. This is different.”

“Would a relationship with Tony be inconvenient for you?”   


“Kind of!” Stephen huffed. “Well, maybe not. I can’t be sure. But it would mean that I have to change the way I live my life, and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

Wong turned to look at him. “Yes you can, you’re just scared of it. I know that you want to take the risk too, since you’re putting yourself through this much turmoil.”

“I’m not good at this stuff. It might be better if I just let it be.” Stephen said miserably.

“Stephen.” Wong spoke in a voice that was simultaneously soft and firm. “What do you need to hear from me? I feel like nothing I’m saying here is helping.”

“It is helping. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about this.” Stephen sighed. “It’s just that I’ve avoided stuff like this for so long I’m not sure if I have it in me to try now.”

“Oh, please. You’re in your forties, don’t act like you’re so ancient.”

Stephen ignored him. “I feel like I shouldn’t like him as much as I do. That’s the worst part. He can be so annoying, and his jokes are absolutely idiotic sometimes.”

“But?” Wong prompted.

Stephen took in a deep breath. “But he’s kind. And I can tell he really does care about helping other people. He’s extremely smart, even if he hides it behind his veil of obnoxiousness. He’s...handsome. I like his smile and I like it when I’m the one who makes him smile. I feel happy when I’m around him for no reason. That’s the good stuff. That’s what it’s really about.”

Wong grinned. “You don’t know how glad it makes me to hear you say that. If he makes you happy, then he’s worth going after. Forget about how you messed things up and go for it.”

“It’s not just about him.” Stephen shook his head. “It’s about me too. It’s scary knowing that he feels the same way that I do, or something similar. I don’t get why he would. I’m nothing like him, and I’m sure I’ve been rude to him enough times for him to warrant not liking me. He even told me that he thought I was overworking myself and not sleeping enough. Why would he be interested in me if he thinks I can’t even take care of myself?”   


“You really would be hopeless without me.” Wong sounded exasperated. 

“Be quiet.”

“I’m serious! You heard him say he was worried for your health and you took it to mean that he was looking down on you? That’s not what he meant by that, I assure you. It means he cares about you. It’s an indicator that his feelings run past the surface level, even. Don’t take it to mean he thinks you’re helpless. To be honest, you are overworking yourself. I’ve told you that before and I’ll say it again. Now, do you think that I’m attacking you when I say that?”

“No, but I-”

Wong cut him off. “Exactly. All of this self-loathing needs to stop. Being around it is taking years off of my lifespan. You shouldn’t be self-conscious about not being worthy of his attention when you clearly are. For all you brag about your career, you seem to be forgetting now how impressive it is. It’s not just that, either. You are just as amazing of a person when you step outside of the hospital as you are when you’re in it.”

Stephen’s looked down at the table, getting choked up. He hated getting emotional in front of anyone, but something about what Wong had said had brought it out.

_ He really believes that about me. I know that I’m a good person, but sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough. Good enough for what, I don’t know, but I’ve always felt like there were pieces of me missing. Not pieces that could be filled by a significant other, but ones that made it impossible to find one.  _

“I just-” Stephen stopped speaking when his voice broke and took a moment to compose himself. “I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to talk to him about this. I can’t break down in front of him.”

Wong nodded. “I understand that, but how are you going to get past this if you don’t talk to him? You can’t. It’s going to be uncomfortable, but I know you can deal with it.”

“I hate feeling so uncertain about all of this.” Stephen said. “Everything is so difficult.”

“I’m sure it’ll be easier when you’re tied down to your handsome rich boyfriend. You just have to get through all the awkward parts first.” 

“I’m not even to the stage of thinking about a serious relationship.” Stephen admitted. “Is that bad? Like, I want it to be serious and long-lasting, preferably. But that’s too much to take in.”

“If looking at it one step at a time makes it easier for you, then do that.” Wong agreed. “However, like I always say, I’m never wrong. This whole thing is going to work out in the end.”

“Easy for you to say.” Stephen grumbled.

Wong smiled. “Yes. It is easy for me to say, because I know that it’s true.” 

Once the food was done, they were quiet for a while as they ate. The vegetarian curry Wong had whipped up was as fantastic as Stephen had expected, and along with the artfully seasoned roasted potatoes, he filled up fast. 

He was swallowing the last mouthful of rice and sauce on his plate when Wong spoke. His tone was thoughtful. “Do you have any future plans, Stephen?”

The question caught him off guard. “Uh, yes. I need to find a new source of funding for my project. The administration at the hospital is shifting next year too, so I’ll have to deal with the ramifications of that.”

“Those aren’t plans, and they’re both about your work.” Wong said. “What is Stephen Strange looking forward to in the years and decades to come? Not Dr. Strange.”

_ Why is he asking me this? He must be leading me to some other conclusion he doesn’t think I would make it to on my own. Ugh, I wish he would just come out and say it.  _

“I don’t know.” Stephen said honestly.

“You don’t, and that’s a problem in my eyes. Are you going to work until you die? Is there anything that you’re working towards?”

Stephen shook his head. “Not really.”

“There should be.”

“Oh, I get it.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “You’re saying that I need to focus on life outside of work, and the way to do that is by being with Tony.”

“No,” Wong countered. “It’s not about Tony. Do I think you should try things with him? Yes. Do I know that they’ll go well, in all of my infinite wisdom? Also yes. You need to give yourself the room to live a little. I know you like playing the violin, so find more time for that. Or, just take some time off to relax and find things you like to do.”

“I can’t take time off.” Stephen argued. “People need me.”

“How hypocritical is it that you feel responsible for everyone else’s well-being when you don’t spare a thought for your own?” Wong’s tone wasn’t confrontational. It was calm. “A little vacation won’t kill you.”

“I like working. I’m not sure I would know what to do with myself if I took a break.” Stephen said back. 

“That’s the problem. Look, just think about it?” Wong didn’t seem to think he was going to be very successful on this front, probably because Stephen was being so stubborn about it. “Your life as it is sounds excruciatingly stressful.”

“Fine. I’ll keep it in mind,” Stephen replied, with no intention of keeping it in mind.    


“When’s your next orchestra practice?” Wong changed the subject. 

“In a few days.”

“Are you going to talk to him then?”

The thought made Stephen feel a bit sick. “I guess I’ll have to. If he’ll listen to what I have to say.”

“My advice would be to get it out of the way as soon as you see him. That way you don’t have to spend too much time worrying about it. If you wait too long, you’ll start overthinking it.”

“I’m going to overthink it no matter what.” Stephen groaned. “It’s as if I’m waiting to be executed on death row or something.”

“Figures that you would prefer death over being emotionally vulnerable.” Wong snorted. “I want to know how it goes immediately after it’s over.”

“I thought you were the one who already knew how it would all work out.” Stephen shot him a look. “Shouldn’t you be confident that it’ll go well?”

“Just because I know that things will go well for you doesn’t mean I don’t want all the juicy details.” Wong shrugged. 

Something about the way his friend said it got a chuckle out of Stephen. It was the first time he had really laughed since the fiasco at the restaurant. “You’re a good friend, despite how incorrigible you can be.”

“I do what I can.” Wong said, pleased. “You’re not so bad either when you aren’t going through boy troubles and when you stay out of the kitchen.”

“Hey. I do not go through boy troubles.” Stephen protested, choosing to ignore the second part of Wong’s statement.

“This situation with Tony Stark is trouble, is it not? And he is a boy? That sounds like the definition of boy troubles.” Wong said smugly.

“You’re oversimplifying it.” Stephen frowned. “It wouldn’t be plural at least. If anything, I’m going through boy trouble. Not boy troubles.”

“So you admit it! You are up to your neck in boy trouble.”

“Have I ever mentioned that I hate you?” Stephen grumbled.

“More than once, but I can tell you’ve never meant it.” Wong responded, smiling.

Eating dinner with Wong had made Stephen feel a little better. He was more optimistic about how talking to Tony would go. That didn’t mean he still wasn’t terrified, though.

***

Stephen showed up early to the next practice. While he waited for Tony to show up, he ran through what he was going to say in his mind and how he was going to say it. He planned to pull Tony aside somewhere, because having the discussion in the general vicinity of the other members of the ensemble somehow made the idea of having it even worse. 

_ It’ll be okay. I just have to explain that I feel the same way, but I need to take things slow. He’ll understand that, won’t he? Well, he won’t understand it if I can’t say the words. Lord.  _

He waited and waited as the other people arrived and the room filled up with chatter and moving bodies. Sam, Steve, and Bucky were in a cluster speaking with each other as usual, as inseparable as ever. Wanda was staring down Thor for some reason, and Stephen thought he saw some disappointment in her expression that she wasn’t getting any kind of reaction from him. Shuri was showing Peter something on her phone that Stephen knew he had no chance of comprehending, and T’Challa and Bruce were watching Rhodes play through a section of one of his parts. Scott and Clint had teamed up to antagonize Natasha, likely just because they felt like it. He watched all of it, but Tony didn’t come. 

He sat alone as people started to head out to the stage, unwilling to believe what was happening. 

_ He isn’t coming? I can’t tell him about any of this over text. Also, doesn’t he know that not attending will lose him the solo? _

The idea of the issues between them messing up the competition for the solo irked Stephen more than it should have. It was unfair that after all the hard work he’d put in, he would get it handed to him because Tony wasn’t going to show up. It didn’t feel earned. It felt stolen.

_ He could still show up. He will. _

Begrudgingly, Stephen left the room a few minutes before seven o’clock. He wasn’t going to be late himself, no matter how much he wanted to talk to Tony. Fury gave the empty chair next to Stephen a questioning eye, but that was it. 

Normally Tony would have given the others a note to tune to, but since he was gone, the responsibility fell to Stephen. Right as Stephen stood to give the rest of the orchestra the A, Tony emerged from the wings of the stage and sat. He wouldn’t look at Stephen. 

_ Somehow this is worse than not seeing him at all.  _

Stephen gave the ensemble the note for tuning even though Tony had arrived, and when that was done, he sat down. It was impossible to sneak even a whisper past Fury’s watching eye, so he stayed silent, stealing occasional glances at the man next to him. 

Tony looked to be fine outwardly, but there was something in his eyes that suggested otherwise. He was angled ever so slightly away from Stephen, like he couldn’t bear to be turned in his direction.

_ I’ll have to catch him after we’re done. I’ll just...I’ll just stop him before he can leave and ask if we can talk. That’s easy.  _ Stephen was so focused on what he would do  at the end of rehearsal that his sound wasn’t as good as it could have been. Tony was off too, and together they only worsened the other’s errors. It was embarrassing, but Stephen reassured himself that it was temporary.

_ Talk to him. I can fix this if I just talk to him.  _

As soon as Fury dismissed them, before Stephen could even open his mouth, Tony was off. Stephen stood up hastily and followed him. Not wanting to attract the attention of too many others, he didn’t call out after Tony. Walking at a brisk pace towards the ready room, he assumed that he could catch up. By the time he made it back to the door, Tony was on his way out. 

He stood aside and the words caught in his throat as Tony passed. The man looked so determined to be gone. His number one priority was leaving as soon as possible. 

Then, Tony looked at him, and for a split second they gazed at each other. That tripped up Stephen even more, and when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Tony’s face reddened, he glanced away, and kept going. He was gone before Stephen could stop him, disappearing through the crowd of other ensemble members going in the opposite direction.

_ He didn’t even give me the chance to say anything to him. Maybe Wong was wrong, and he doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Agh, why didn’t I say anything? _

Trudging back over to where his violin case, he was in his own little world over-analyzing every minor detail and wondering how it could have gone differently. 

What ended up pulling him back to reality was someone approaching him from the side and clearing their throat to speak. “Hey.”

Stephen looked up from the spot he had been blankly staring at on the floor, his violin and bow still in his hands. It was Rhodes. “Hello.”   


In the past, Rhodes and Stephen had only interacted minimally. He respected the man for his reliability and remembered something about past military service, but that was about it. It took him a second to realize why Rhodes had approached him.

_ Oh. This must be about Tony. _

Tony had mentioned when he’d first met Stephen that he was friends with Rhodes, and Stephen had sometimes seen them chatting. Stephen wasn’t sure what message Rhodes was set to deliver, but he also wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

“This is awkward, sorry.” Rhodes leaned against the counter next to them. “He’d be pissed if he knew I was talking to you, but I kind of felt like I needed to.”

“Is this about what happened between him and I?” Stephen asked, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded. “He told me, and he’s been really torn up about it. This is going to come off wrong no matter how I phrase it, so I’ll just say it. I don’t care if you don’t like him, but you need to be nice to Tony. He’s not used to getting rejected, and I think that getting turned down by you is extra-hard for him.”

_ What? Clearly, he doesn’t know my side of things. He must think that I was rude to Tony or insensitive in some way. I wonder what Tony said to him.  _

“Why am I hearing this from you?” Stephen responded. It might not have been a direct answer to what Rhodes had been saying, but it was a valid question. 

“Because he’s not in the shape to talk to you right now. He’ll get over it, but his pride is wounded, and I wanted you to know how it’s affecting him. That’s all.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Stephen said slowly. “I never meant to hurt Tony.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, but don’t you see how he could think things were a certain way? From what he told me, you were kind of leading him on.”   


“What did he tell you?” Stephen felt defensive, but sort of understood where Rhodes was coming from. The slightly accusatory tone coming from the other man was a result of his desire to protect Tony, not from any actual problem he had with Stephen. 

“Enough. Look, I know that it’s weird to get shovel talk from me considering you turned him down, but I don’t want him getting hurt any more. If you don’t think you can be thoughtful about how he’s feeling, I would think it would be better to just avoid him.”

Stephen stared at him. “How would I do that? We’re supposed to sit next to each other.”

“I don’t know.” Rhodes shrugged. “Just...just be considerate, okay?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.” Stephen said. “Not intentionally. I wanted to talk to him today about what happened but he was gone too fast.”

“See, that’s what I was saying. It might be better if you just left him alone for a while until he gets over it.”

“But I don’t want him to get over it.” Stephen blurted out. 

Rhodes’ expression twisted into something angry. “Oh, so you’d rather keep stringing him along for fun? That’s shitty of you. I’ll say it again. Leave him alone. Got it?”

“No, that’s not what I-” Stephen closed his mouth and looked away from Rhodes. He took a breath. “That’s not my intention, stringing him along.”

“What did you mean, then?”

He couldn’t look at Rhodes as he said it, not wanting to see what reaction he would get. But he did say it. “This whole thing was a misunderstanding. When Tony told me how he felt, I wanted to tell him that I felt the same way but I was a little overwhelmed.”

“You like him back? Why didn’t you just say that?”

Stephen crossed his arms. “Like I said, I was overwhelmed. He took it as a rejection.”

“He said that you ran away from the restaurant a minute after it happened and you haven’t texted him at all.” Rhodes said back flatly. 

Putting emphasis into his words, Stephen gritted his teeth. “For the third time, I was overwhelmed. I wish it would have gone better, but it was too much for me to handle. And now it seems I’ve messed things up permanently, so it might be best if I do take your advice and leave him alone.”

“Hold on, that’s not what I was trying to say.” Rhodes backpedaled. “If you do like him, you should work it out. I just don’t like all the mixed signals. It makes me think you’re not serious about him, and he doesn’t need someone unreliable.”

“To be honest, I would rather be talking to him about this.” Stephen said.

Rhodes sighed. “I approached this wrong. You’re right.”

“I can tell you care about him, it’s difficult for me to speak about any of this.” Stephen explained. “Especially since I don’t know how much of what I say will get back to him through you.”

“I’m not going to tell him that you like him, that’s up to you. If you’re serious.”

“What does serious mean?” Stephen replied, annoyed. Though he got where Rhodes was coming from, his statements felt invasive. What place did he have to dictate Stephen’s relationship with Tony? “I feel like you’re telling me that I need to have the wedding date now or else it’s a no-go.”

Rhodes laughed. “No, I just mean that if you’re after him for his money or you’re aiming for a one-night stand, you shouldn’t try it.”

“After him for his money?” The idea was ridiculous to Stephen. “I almost like him in spite of how rich and irritating he is. I don’t-” He paused, taking a breath in as he collected his thoughts. “I want things to work out between us, but I struggle to communicate what I’m thinking.”

“I believe you.” Rhodes nodded. “You get why I want to be cautious for him, though, right? He’s been doing better with his life recently and I don’t want him to get derailed over a guy who doesn’t treat him right.”

Stephen looked back to Rhodes. “If you think that I would mistreat him, I must have given you the wrong impression of who I am.”

“I don’t really think you would. Just being careful.” Rhodes grinned at him casually. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I was going to try to catch him again at the next rehearsal.” Stephen told Rhodes. 

“Why don’t you text him?”

“I’d rather see him in person. I’m even worse at texting than I am at...all of this stuff.”   


“Got it. I guess that makes sense. Don’t let him run away next time, though. The next rehearsal is the last one before we break for the holidays, and if you don’t talk to him he’ll probably be in a funk all through Christmas.”

“I know.” Stephen realized his violin and bow were still in his hands and he moved to put them away. “What has he said about me to you?”

“I’m not going to break his confidence, but I’ll tell you that he likes you. A lot. No pressure or anything.” 

“Yeah.” Stephen mumbled. “No pressure.”   


“Seriously, man. Be honest about everything, and he won’t care about the misunderstanding.” Rhodes sounded happier now that he had come to the decision that Stephen wasn’t any kind of threat to Tony’s well-being. “You do seem like a good guy, I just had to make sure.”

“Thanks. I hope that I can figure this out.”

“You will.”

“Would you do me a favor?” Stephen asked. 

“Depends on what it is.”

“Could you just tell him that I want to talk to him when I next see him? I can’t exactly tell him how I feel if he’s intent on getting away from me at all costs.”

Rhodes thought on it. “Uh, yeah. I can do that.”   


“Good.” Stephen said, hoping to end the conversation there. Rhodes stayed where he was standing. 

_ Did he want something else? _

“Is that it?” Stephen questioned. 

“Nothing, sorry.” Rhodes shrugged. “It just makes me happy to see that you two found each other. That sounds corny, but it’s true.”

Stephen could tell that Rhodes was sincere. “It makes me happy too. Even if I never saw it coming.”

“Some of the best things in life are surprises.” Rhodes responded.

Stephen wasn’t sure if he agreed, as he had never loved surprises before. However, if meeting Tony counted as one, they couldn’t be that bad. He gave Rhodes a small smile. “Maybe so.”

***

The weather took a turn for the worse in the following days. It was like the freezing temperatures and abundant snow-falls throughout the late fall had all been leading up to this. Stephen checked the weather app on his phone when he heard one of his nurses mention a storm warning. He frowned when he saw that there was a huge Nor’easter forming that promised to batter the city. People were even claiming that it could be the storm of the century. Meteorologists said that it would hit late in the night of December twenty-second, which was the same day that the final rehearsal of the year was scheduled for. Fury was unlikely to cancel, which meant he would have to rush home after.

Big storms meant one thing in Stephen’s mind, and that was a rise in injuries and deaths. The Metro-General would probably be flooded with people in need after the storm hit. He checked his schedule to see that he was on the clock starting midday on the twenty-fourth and through Christmas. Not many other staff had wanted to take that shift, but he didn’t care. No one was waiting for him at home. 

Predictions became more dire as the twenty-second got closer. Stephen regarded them with some skepticism. In his opinion, weathermen could tend to exaggerate things. This winter had been worse than average, but New York was New York. It would take a lot to do any real damage.

He bundled up as he left for the rehearsal, wrapping a deep purple scarf that Wong had gifted him around his neck. It was a huge old thing, and made him feel like a grandmother, but it was the warmest one he owned. There weren’t as many others as usual out on the sidewalks during his walk to the Lieberman. 

_ The calm before the storm, literally. _

Weather took a backseat in Stephen’s mind as he got closer to his destination. Nerves were popping up when he thought of talking to Tony, but it had to be done. He would do it. 

Though he’d set out extremely early hoping to have the ready room to himself for a bit, he wasn’t the first one there. The second that he walked in, he locked eyes with Tony.

_ Okay, say something. Don’t just stare at him. _

They spoke at the same time. 

“Rhodes told you that I-”

“Hey, Doc. Sorry-”

They both stopped talking simultaneously. The silence of the room reigned again until Stephen reminded his legs to work. He walked over to Tony. “What were you going to say?”

“Doesn’t matter. You go first.”

Stephen set down his violin. His heart was pounding out of his chest, despite the open expression on Tony’s face. Tony seemed like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be there or not. “I apologize for what happened at the restaurant.” Stephen started.

“You don’t need to. I shouldn’t have said all that.” Tony crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again, clearly uncomfortable. “Did Rhodey ask you to talk to me? He told me he didn’t, but I wasn’t sure if he was telling me the truth.”

“I don’t think he would lie to you about anything meaningful.”

“Yeah, but he gets a certain way when he’s concerned about how I’m doing. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but he’s a total mother hen.”

“He didn’t ask me to talk to you. I wanted to see you at the last rehearsal, but I couldn’t catch you.”

“Oh.” Tony winced. “I didn’t give you much of a chance, did I?”

“No, but it’s fine. I-”

Tony cut Stephen off. He was fidgeting with his hands, like he wished he had something to do with them. “I’m the one who’s sorry. Look, I feel terrible about what happened. I never meant for you to find out about how I felt, and that was probably the worst time I could have brought it up. I didn’t intend to get into a fight with you about your funding, either. It’s just that hearing about how you had gotten denied pissed me off. It still does. Who in their right mind would turn you down?”

“Tony.” Stephen tried to regain control of the conversation, but it was out of his hands. Tony was spewing a stream of nervous speech, like he was searching for the perfect words to fix things between them. 

“And I get that you don’t want my help with it or anything. That’s totally fine. You’re a selfless person, and I see that. It just made me upset how I had the solution to your problem and you wouldn’t even consider it. I only ever cared about making your life easier.” Tony snorted. “Which is funny, considering the fight we had probably made your life worse. God, I’m such an idiot. Is this conversation you asking me to stay away from you? Because if it is, I would totally get it. It’s awkward now. I was going to leave you alone anyways, but-”

“Tony!” Stephen said more forcefully, silencing the other man. “Calm down. You’re blowing this out of proportion.” Seeing that Tony was almost as flustered as he felt gave Stephen some confidence. Maybe that was wrong, but it was how his mind worked. 

“I am?”

“You are. I’m not going to tell you to avoid me. I only asked Rhodes to ask you to speak with me because I didn’t think you would hear me out otherwise.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good, right?” Tony paused for a split second. “I expected you to be more mad at me. It’s kind of freaking me out that you’re not. Hell, I’d be mad at me if I was in your shoes.”

“For what? We both acted foolish.” Stephen frowned. Had Tony been agonizing over this as much as he had? He hadn’t thought that was possible, but it seemed likely based on the way he was acting.

“Uh, duh. I was a total buffoon.”

“Can I get that in writing?” Stephen said before he could stop himself. 

Tony cracked a weak smile. “Nice one.”

_ Keep going. This is going well. Now you just have to tell him that you feel the same way. _

“Even if you are horribly irritating sometimes, I value our friendship.” Stephen stated. “I value it too much to throw it away over some silly fight.”

“To be fair, the fight wasn’t what I was worried about. Sure, it still bothers me that you won’t let me help you out, but I get it. It was mostly the other thing.”

Stephen took a breath in. “I was getting to that. You see-”

“Oh, that.” Tony chuckled nervously, interrupting Stephen. “We can just forget that ever happened. It’s probably for the best. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I-”   


“Wait, you don’t have a partner that I didn’t know about, do you?” Tony’s face paled at the thought. “Jesus, I had no idea. You’re so quiet about your personal life so I didn’t even think about that. I feel terrible.”

_ It’s like he’s not letting me talk because he’s afraid of what I’m going to say. _

“It’s not that.” Stephen said back. “I’m single. I was just going to tell you that…” He trailed off, this time of his own accord. The door to the room had swung open in the middle of his sentence, with Clint walking through. 

Clint looked to Tony, then to Stephen, then back to Tony. His eyes narrowed, like he knew that he had stumbled into the middle of an important conversation. “Uh, hey you two. What’s up?”

Tony glanced at Stephen, then said to Clint, “Nothing crazy. What about you?”

Clint launched into a detailed description of everything that had happened to him since the last rehearsal, because of course he did. He also explained why he had shown up so early, which Stephen only half-listened to. It was something involving messing with Natasha, because of course it was. Throughout all of it, Stephen went over the words that he wanted to say to Tony in his head. He resolved that as soon as he could get him alone, he would speak them aloud. 

_ I like you too. I’m not sure where it will lead us, but I’d like to find out. I’m terrible at relationships of any kind, but if you think you’re willing to put up with me, I want to try things out with you.  _

Once Clint had finished, the room had started to fill with other people. Stephen didn’t want to have the conversation around them all, so he cleared his throat to catch Tony’s attention again. “I didn’t get to finish. Would you mind talking a little more after rehearsal?”

Tony nodded. “Sure, Doc. But, just checking, we’re good now? You’re not going to drop any bombs on me? I’ll play like shit if I’m worrying about what you’re going to say to me.”

“No, nothing bad.” Stephen shook his head. 

“Great. That’s nice to hear.” Tony gave him an earnest look. “Thanks for being so relaxed about all of this. I value our friendship too, a lot. I’m glad that it’s still intact.”

The words made Stephen feel warm, despite the drafty space he was in. Rather than respond with something equally as heartfelt, he decided to try to joke. They had already talked enough about their emotions, and if things went well after rehearsal, more of that might be to come. “Me too.”

Fury was in a good mood, and told them to leave five minutes early, saying it was his Christmas gift to them. As Stephen packed up his things next to Tony, he ignored the conversations through the rest of the room about the severity of the approaching storm, too focused on what he wanted to say. He drilled the words over and over in his mind. He wasn’t going to lose his voice again, and he wasn’t going to leave without Tony knowing how he felt. 

Once he had put his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck, he cleared his throat. Most of the room had cleared out, so they were close enough to being alone. No one was paying them any attention. “So, I was saying earlier…”

Tony’s head snapped up from what he had been doing, which was staring at his phone. “Oh, right. I’m all ears.”

“As I’ve said, when you told me how I felt, I was caught off guard. I didn’t react as I should have. I wish I could go back in time and do things differently, but it might be better that things happened the way they did. Now that you’re coming to know me better, you can see that I can be...difficult to deal with at times.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” Tony argued. “You’re just prickly.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from his planned speech. “That doesn’t seem like a good thing.”

“It totally is. Once you get past all the thorns and stuff, it’s a blast to be around you.”

“Am I a cactus in this metaphor?”

“That, or some kind of plant that’s painful to touch.” Tony bit the inside of cheek. “Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean about that not seeming like a good thing. Okay, let’s forget that metaphor. You’re like a Tootsie Pop. You’ve got a hard exterior, but a sweet, gooey center.”

Stephen stared at him. “That’s somehow even worse.”

“Look, I could sit here coming up with progressively worse metaphors for a horrifyingly long time, so why don’t we get back to what you were saying?”

“What I was saying? Oh, right.” Stephen nodded. “I can be difficult or even...prickly depending on who you ask. It means a great deal to me that you’ve been willing to look past that. It means so much that despite my initial annoyance with you, I think that-”

The lights flickered out, leaving them and the few other people left in the room in complete darkness. Stephen stopped speaking.

_ How many times am I going to get interrupted in the middle of a sentence? For God’s sake, it’s like the universe is trying to drag out my nerves for as long as it possibly can.  _

“Uh, hold that thought.” Tony was again looking at his phone.

“Thought held.” Stephen muttered to himself. He wasn’t angry exactly, but he was frustrated that he’d again been prevented from saying what he wanted to when he was so close. 

“Goddamn.” Tony said. “Like half of the city just lost power and the storm has barely started. Twitter is saying something about a grid overload.”

“How is that possible?”

“A collection of bad circumstances, I guess? I’m sure one thing went wrong and then it was a chain reaction.” Tony glanced back up at him. Stephen spotted something unidentifiable in his face, illuminated by the light of his phone screen. “They were saying that it would be the storm of the century. You’re in the East Village, right?”

“Right.” Stephen said, filling with dread. “I’m assuming that there isn’t any power in my area?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Great.” Stephen started mentally assessing what he would have to eat out of his fridge first so the perishables didn’t go bad. “This should make for a fun start to my holidays.”

“You know...no, that’s stupid.” Tony mumbled. “Nevermind.”

“What?”

“Well,” It was hard to tell if Tony was acting like he didn’t want to expand upon his thoughts or if he really didn’t. “Stark Tower has its own generators and failsafes. We wouldn’t lose power even if the world was ending. And I don’t like the idea of you going back to an apartment with no power.”

“So you’re inviting me over?” Stephen asked. 

“Yeah, if you feel like coming. You’re not obligated.” Tony told him. “Is the heat in your building okay?”

“It can be spotty. I have a lot of blankets.”

Tony stood up. “Okay, that settles it. You can come stay the night. Hopefully things will be better by tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please, I’m the one who invited you. Plus, my penthouse could comfortably fit an absurd amount of people. I won’t mind.”

_ I could say yes, and that would give me more time to broach the subject of how I feel. But if things somehow go poorly, I might be trapped in his house with him. Hm.  _

Erring on the side of optimism, Stephen responded, “If it’s okay with you. Are you sure I won’t bother you?”

“Nah, it’ll be fun.” Tony started moving towards the door out of the room, which was leaking some light from the hallway. They were lucky that the hallway was lined with small frosted windows. Otherwise it would have been much more difficult to find their way out to the entrance in the dark. “I’ve got a pair of pink polka-dotted pajama bottoms that you can borrow. They just scream Stephen Strange.”

Ignoring the shiver that went through him at hearing Tony say his full name, Stephen replied in a faux-exasperated tone, “We haven’t gotten there, and I’m already fearing for my sanity. You’re right. This should be fun.”

Though his voice was dripping in sarcasm when he said it, Tony laughed. It must have been clear that he was only playing around. 

_ Yet another unforeseen turn of events throws me into uncharted waters. Is it weird that I said yes to his offer? Is it weird that he offered in the first place? No, it isn’t. I’ll talk to him once we get there. He won’t be able to run away from me again, and it’s doubtful that I’ll get cut off. For better or for worse, I’ll be able to move forward.  _

The winter air hit them with force as soon as they walked onto the street. It was snowing heavily, and Tony gestured towards where he had parked his car. Stephen huddled deeper into his scarf.

There was some comfort in knowing that all of the uncomfortable awkwardness that Stephen felt would be dispelled soon. He was still nervous, but it couldn’t be helped. Rather than focus on that, he focused on the endearing way Tony’s cheeks and the tip of his nose flared a rosy red in the cold. 

It was much more enjoyable to focus on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been imagining the events of the next chapter pretty much since I started thinking about this story, so I hope they don't disappoint when I eventually get it out. Again, sorry if it feels like I'm dragging things out for too long. Stephen's annoyance at the universe for continually interrupting him mid-sentence was a bit of a jab at myself for the excessive inconveniences/misconceptions at work in this chapter. Trust me, they're going to talk for real about feelings and stuff very soon, I just wrote it this way because I felt it would fit the flow of the story.


	10. Hot Chocolate

Once they had piled into Tony’s car and Stephen had stowed his violin away in the back, he relaxed into the seat. It was comfortable, and he unwrapped his scarf a ways since the heater was going at full blast. 

“I like the scarf.” Tony commented. “It’s like old-lady chic or something.”

Stephen glanced at him, self-conscious at hearing what he had been thinking said aloud. “My friend gave it to me.”

“Friend?”

“What, is it so surprising to hear that I have friends?” Stephen asked. It was only after he asked the question that he realized he had been somewhat misleading. Excluding Tony, Wong was probably the only person he would call a friend, yet he’d said ‘friends’, as in plural.

“No, no.” Tony turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life despite the freezing temperatures outside. The car was probably an import from some fantastically expensive car dealer. “You just never mentioned anyone. You’re pretty private about that stuff.”

“Is that odd?” Stephen thought it would be weirder for him to spill his guts about all aspects of his life to every person that he met.

“Usually, I’m able to find out more about people as I spend time around them.” Tony explained. “You don’t let much slip through the cracks.”

Stephen frowned.

_ What’s the right thing to say here? _

“Sorry.” He tried.

Tony shrugged. “You don’t need to say sorry. Some people are just more reserved. That’s fine. Although, I am interested to know what kind of people you hang around. Are they all genius surgeons?”

“Lord, no. Most of my colleagues are insufferable or not the kind of people you’d have much fun with.” Stephen paused. “I suppose I might fall into one of those categories too. Or both.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Tony pulled out into the street. The snow was falling heavily now and the road was emptier than it should have been at that time of day. 

“This is a nice car.” Stephen said blandly. “Where’d you get it?”   


Tony grinned. “I built most of it. Automobiles aren’t my forte, but I wanted to try something different. Why, does it deliver?”   


“You built this?” Stephen said, in disbelief. “I guess I didn’t imagine that one person could build a car by themselves.”

“It’s not that hard when you have time on your hands and money to burn. Besides, I feel safer driving it now since I built it myself. I don’t get it out on the road as much as I’d like, though.”

“Too many chauffeurs and private jets?”   


“Yes to the first one, sort of on the second one. I haven’t really left the city much recently, so I haven’t needed to travel by plane.” 

_ Hm.  _

“I forget sometimes,” Stephen ventured, “Who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“All the money and success. I forget that you’re such an important figure in the tech world and all that. Then you spring something on me like how you built your own car or I remember where you live.”

Tony sighed. “I wish other people could forget more too. It’s tiring to have to put up a front for everyone all the time.”

“I understand.” Stephen nodded. “Though I thought it was gaudy and tacky when I first met you, I can respect you more for the public attention you command now. That sort of thing, being plastered on billboards and magazine covers? It takes a toll.”

“Yeah, it does. Hey, at least I don’t have the responsibility of cutting into anyone’s brain. That’s something I’ll be forever thankful for.”

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it.” Stephen told him. He was only being half-truthful.

_ On some level, having another person’s life in your hands never stops being terrifying. Everyone assumes that brain surgeons are oiled machines who rarely fail in their craft, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. We’re as human as the person on the operating table, but we have to push through our fear and nerves to successfully help others. However, with each success, you do grow more confident in your ability.  _

Stephen wished that he could transfer a fraction of the confidence he felt with a scalpel in his hand to how he felt when faced with a difficult conversation. He knew that everyone was talented in different ways, but it seemed than an inordinate amount of his talent had gone into the precision of his hands and the analytical function on his brain, and not enough had gone to the portion of his mind that regulated how he interacted with others.

_ Or maybe that’s just me making excuses. Telling myself that I was predisposed to be an awkward man is a poor excuse for continuing to be one. Yes, things were bad when I was young, but I should have worked past that. Instead, I shunned the idea of any meaningful relationships, and now I’m struggling to figure out how to start so late. _

“I can see a storm cloud forming over your head.” Tony cut through Stephen’s thoughts. He’d gone silent without realizing it, and hadn’t heard whatever Tony had said in response to his original statement. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.”

Tony swiveled the wheel, making a careful right turn and avoiding a patch of ice on the road. “If you say so. God, this snow is worse than I thought it would be. We’re lucky that we’re almost there. I wouldn’t want to risk being out much longer.”

“Hopefully they’ll be able to get things back to normal by tomorrow.” Stephen said. “I have work the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh? You get to set your schedule, don’t you?” Tony asked.

“Yes.”

“Why are you working on Christmas Eve, then? You’re high up enough that I’m sure you could ask for leave.”

Stephen was suddenly embarrassed. How could he explain that Christmas was nothing more to him than another day of the year? He liked the idea of the holiday, but without anyone to celebrate it with, it fell a little flat. “I signed up for the shift without thinking much about it. I’m not extremely religious.”

“Me neither, but you can’t skip out on Christmas!” Tony sounded indignant. “That’s like the one day a year that everyone takes off.”

“People still get sent to the hospital on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It only makes sense for someone to be there to help them.”   


“I can’t decide if you’re a Grinch, or if your selfless spirit is an embodiment of the holiday itself.” Tony furrowed his brow. “No, I’m gonna go with Grinch. It makes me sad to think that you don’t take part in all the stupid Christmas traditions.

“Like what?”

“Wearing ugly sweaters and getting presents, obviously. You would look killer in an ugly sweater.” Tony stopped himself, his face reddening. “Uh, not trying to be weird.”

_ I should tell him. _

“It’s fine.” Stephen said simply. “I do think that it would be fun to do those things, but it just isn’t practical for me. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of. I’ve always been kind of a Clark Griswold about Christmas, but I get where you’re coming from.” Tony went silent for all of two seconds, before speaking again in a different voice. In a half-joking manner, he asked, “Can I get you a gift anyway? Even though you’re not the biggest fan of all the festive cheer?”

“Then I’d have to get you something.”

“No you wouldn’t! I’m hard to buy for, or at least I’ve been told. My gift would be the gift of giving you a gift.”

Stephen crossed his arms. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine.”

“Come on, Doc. Don’t be a Grinch.”

“How am I being a Grinch? I’m not going around to all the houses in the city and stealing away the joy of little children, am I? That term loses all meaning when you apply it to people who aren’t cartoonishly evil monsters.”

“Eh, it’s fun to throw around. Plus, the Grinch becomes good in the end. His heart grows three sizes and they all live happily ever after. With all the time I’ve spent bugging you, I would hope that I’ve grown your heart at least one or two sizes.”

_ He loves teasing me. Why do I let him do it so often? _

“I should hope not. Any abnormal growth of that kind would result in a quick death.”

“Someone should have told that to Dr. Suess. Now, stop trying to change the subject and tell me what you want.”

“Oh, look.” Stephen said with a wisp of a smile on his face. “We’re here.” Above them loomed Stark Tower. 

Tony drove around to an entrance that opened up to let him down into an underground parking garage. “I’m not done with you yet.” He warned. “I’m going to find out what you want for Christmas whether you like it or not.”

An elevator ride later, they entered Tony’s penthouse. It looked the same as it had during Stephen’s last visit. “You can put your coat anywhere.” Tony told him. “Do you need me to get something for you to change into? Those don’t look like they’d be super comfortable if you were trying to relax.” He said, eyeing Stephen’s dress pants and the button-up shirt he had under his coat.

_ Is he going to give me some of his clothes? Should I ask? Is it rude to say no?  _

After a moment, Stephen nodded. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

“Cool. I’ll be back in two seconds, so just make yourself comfortable wherever. If you go that way towards the edge of the lounge you’ll probably be able to get a good view of the snow falling outside.” Tony suggested before heading off down a hallway, presumably to retrieve the replacement clothes.

Stephen took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door. He didn’t have anything else on him apart from his phone or his wallet as he hadn’t expected to be away from home for a night. With a start, he realized that he didn’t even have a charger.

_ Well, I can ask Tony for one of those. Huh. This is weirdly nice. It’s quiet.  _

The quiet reminded Stephen of how it had been before the party had gotten hectic on Halloween. Stephen wondered if Tony ever remembered to be grateful for what he had. Though he didn’t care enough to hate the way his own apartment had creaking pipes and an upstairs neighbor who liked to jump around at odd hours of the night, it was startling to see a way of life so different from his own.

As Tony had predicted, the floor-to-ceiling windows on the edge of the lounge offered a panoramic view of the city. Rooftops were already blanketed in snow and the roads seemed even emptier than they had been minutes ago. It was a different kind of peace, and something was amazing about being able to watch it all from above. Stephen slipped into a large green armchair facing the view and rested his chin on one of his hands.

_ Wong would have a fit if he knew I was here right now.  _

He trailed a finger along the window, relishing the feel of the cold glass under his finger. The sensation reminded him of past winters, of walks to the subway after work and how he had practically lived in the library during the cold months of his school days. His mind was free from any analytical thought as he slowly went further and further into the past and he didn’t pass much judgement on the memories that came up. 

There was one especially late night when he’d been working towards his M.D. that he’d spent working on a paper for a demanding professor. He’d only been satisfied enough with his work to leave at somewhere around four in the morning. It was a good thing the library had been open for twenty four hours a day. He recalled the chill of the outside air hitting him as he’d opened the door to walk back to his nearby apartment, and how for one brief moment, he’d been reminded that he was alive. He tended to forget that when he was in the thick of his work. 

He thought of a time in high school when he’d missed his bus home and his parents had been too busy to come get him. Stephen hadn’t gotten a driver’s license until he was in his twenties, not feeling the need, so he’d had to walk home then. A similar memorable feeling of freedom and peace had flooded him then. He’d taken the long route back, despite how his hands and the tips of his ears were turning red. With no friends to accompany him, he’d silently pretended that he was an adventurer braving the frozen tundra of Antarctica. Sure, he was a little old for it by that point, and his neighborhood didn’t fit the bill of Antarctica, but it had been fun. It was one of the last times he could remember that intangible sense of childishness flowing through him. 

The last memory that surfaced as Stephen watched the snowfall was from when he was ten or eleven. It was when his sister Donna had still been alive. They’d gone skating together on the pond near their house. Looking back, it had probably been dangerous, but it hadn’t felt like it then. Donna had been a girl bursting with life. She’d forced Stephen to watch her perform trick after trick, and Stephen hadn’t had the heart to tell her that most of her tricks boiled down to the same twirl movement. Then, she’d fallen onto her leg in an awkward way and Stephen had to help her back home. When she was told by the doctor a day later that she’d broken her ankle, Stephen was upset. How could he have watched her do something like that? He didn’t like watching people in pain, and hearing his sister cry as she leaned against him, limping back to their house had been downright horrible. It was then that he decided that he wanted to be a doctor. After they made it home and their mother had wrapped Donna’s ankle as a temporary measure, they’d sat around their kitchen table and drank hot chocolate. Despite the memory revolving around Donna getting hurt, the thought of that time was comforting.

_ If only I’d been there two years later, when she really needed me. _

Stephen shook his head. He’d gotten over those thoughts years ago. He knew that he wasn’t responsible for the loss, but that didn’t mean it still couldn’t sting all these years later. All it took to remind him was something small, like a cold day. 

“So, I couldn’t actually find those pink polka-dotted ones, but…” Tony trailed off as he saw the look on Stephen’s face. “All good?”

Stephen, abruptly startled back to the present, cleared his throat. “Um, yes. Just thinking again.” Tony had changed clothes himself, into a pair of soft looking dark-red pants and a Stark Industries themed Christmas sweater. Stephen thought it was hideous, but it was made less hideous by who was wearing it.

Thankfully, Tony seemed to know not to press him on what he had been thinking about. He changed the subject. “Okay. Like I was saying, this is what I scrounged up for you. Let me know if any of it doesn’t work.”

Tony held out a pair of nice-looking grey sweatpants, a simple black T-Shirt, and a sweatshirt with a cartoon image of a robot on it. “Is this yours?” Stephen pointed at the sweatshirt.

Embarrassed, Tony nodded. “Yeah, but I haven’t worn it in years. Hold on, I’ll go back to find something else.”

“It’s fine.” Stephen took the clothes. “Can you point me to the restroom?”

“There’s one down that way on the right.” Tony pointed. 

A wave of tiredness rolled over Stephen then, unexpectedly. He suppressed a yawn. “Is it alright if I make a request of you?”

“You don’t have to ask me if it’s okay to ask me something.” 

_ It’s strange to be here with him, like this. It’s like we’ve crossed another boundary that separated us. Ugh, I hope this doesn’t sound needy of me. _

“Would you make me some hot chocolate?” Stephen asked. 

“That’s it?” Tony grinned. “I’m on it. You’re about to have the best hot chocolate of your life.”

“I doubt that.” Stephen muttered, not meaning anything by it.

Tony’s eyes glinted. “Is that a challenge? You know how I feel about those.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Ah, ah. It’s too late now. You’ve challenged me. Go change. I’m going to make hot chocolate so good that you won’t know what hit you.”

“Fine.” Stephen said, a small smile playing across his lips. 

It felt nice to change out of his clothes. The chill of the weather outside had been clinging to him, even though the penthouse was well-heated, but as soon as he slipped on the sweatshirt, it went away. 

_ Tony said he hasn’t worn this in years, but it smells like him.  _

When Stephen re-emerged, holding the clothes he’d changed out of, Tony had migrated into the kitchen area. “You can throw those on a chair or a couch or something.” Tony told him.

Stephen did, and moved to take a seat. This time, he sat farther from the window and closer to the fireplace in the center of the room. It was an ornate yet modern thing, and it couldn’t have gotten that much use with Tony being the only one who lived in the penthouse. 

From the kitchen, Tony called, “I’m almost ready! I’m a little rusty at this, but trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”

“You know that stuffing a bunch of marshmallows in won’t make it the best I’ve ever had, right?” Stephen questioned back. 

“The marshmallows are the best part!”

“They’re unnecessary.” Stephen shrugged. Tony was silent for a second, then he muttered something under his breath. “What was that?”

“Grinch.”

“All I’m saying is that it’s called hot chocolate and not hot marshmallow soup.”

Tony ignored him. “And...it’s ready! Don’t give me unfair criticism just to be difficult, this is a masterpiece. In another life, I’m sure I was a connoisseur of hot chocolate or something.” He came to where Stephen was sitting, holding two mugs in his hands. 

When he gave one of them to Stephen, Stephen looked down inside to see what Tony had created. The hot chocolate was a good milky brown, with one sensibly sized marshmallow sitting in the center. On top of the marshmallow were some tiny shavings of dark chocolate. Tony had thoughtfully put a small spoon in the mug as well. “It looks good.” Stephen acknowledged. 

Tony switched on the fireplace, then took a seat in the chair next to Stephen, crossing his legs. “Don’t make me wait. Give me the taste test.”

Stephen removed the spoon before taking a sip of the drink. Then, he let loose a deep sigh. It was good, even better than he’d thought it would be. He still wasn’t fully sure why he’d given in and asked Tony for it, but he was glad he had. 

_ It’s not the best I’ve ever had, but I don’t think that spot is ever going to get taken.  _

“I like it.” Stephen told Tony. “A lot. Thanks, really.”

“Not the best ever then, huh?”   


“No, but you came close. Maybe I’ll let you try again sometime.” Stephen responded.

Tony’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good.”

The sound of the fireplace ruled the space for a few minutes. All of the anxiety that had flooded Stephen before was muted. He felt safe because of where he was and who he was with. Or, it could have also just been that he was too tired to overthink things. 

_ No, that’s probably not it. I get worse when I’m tired. It’s him. He’s the one who makes me feel this warm inside. I want more times like this with him, and I think he does too.  _

There was no chance of anyone barging in on them, or any other mishap cutting him off. He opened his mouth and began to speak. He didn’t look at Tony as he did it, not because he was afraid, but because he knew that Tony’s face would distract him as he spoke. 

“That thing I was trying to talk to you about earlier.”

“What about it?”

“I’m not the best with words. You know that about me by now. That’s why I was having trouble working up to talking to you about it. I didn’t want you to be mad at me. It doesn’t make any sense, the way I feel about you. I wish I could slap a label on it, but I don’t think that’s possible. When we talked at the restaurant, I got scared. I’m still scared.” Stephen said. “Everything feels uncertain, and I can’t stand it. I’m not good at relationships either.” 

“Doc?” Tony said in a small voice. 

“I like you, Tony. I feel the same way that you do. I should have said that earlier, but I’m saying it now. I don’t know what it means, or what it will lead to. But I thought I should tell you. I wanted to.” Tony didn’t reply, so Stephen continued. “You’re a good man, and I was too stubborn to see that when I first met you. Then, when I started to see it, I got confused by how it was affecting me. That should show you how clueless I can be. I have a lot of issues with myself, and I worry that once you become more aware of them it’ll change how you see me. Frankly, I don’t really understand why you’re attracted to me in the first place.”

“I’m sort of confused.” Tony said slowly. “You feel the same way, but you’re padding it with all this crap about how difficult you are.”   


“It’s not-”

“It is crap! You’re...you’re amazing. Why can’t you see that about yourself like I do?”

“I’m not amazing at this.” Stephen’s face heated, and he set down the mug in his hands on the table next to him. He still couldn’t make himself look at Tony. “Like now, I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been nervous about having this conversation for what feels like forever, and I can’t think of what I want to tell you.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I understand, or at least I think I do.” Tony sighed. “You know where I stand. When I look at you, what I see first are the good things. I see how you’re selfless to a fault and how much you care about other people, even if you don’t always show it outwardly. You’re motivated and I can tell you really care about the work you do too. Uh, not to mention that you’re a total smokeshow! It’s kind of unfair really, and it’s even worse because you can’t even tell how hot you are.”

_ Uh. Um.  _

“But I also see the stuff you worry about. It might be because I have an outside view, but it doesn’t seem like all you’re describing it to be. Sure, you can be a little cold sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that you really are. Besides, you don’t act like that as much as you used to.”

“Some people believe that all you are is how other people perceive you.” Stephen said. “I’m inclined to agree on my worst days.”

“What’s so bad about how other people perceive you? Everyone thinks the world of you! Maybe they’re intimidated of you, but that isn’t because they dislike you.”

“It’s hard.” Stephen said. “It’s hard because I’ve acted so closed-off around everyone that I’ve practically forgotten how to be anything else. Opening up to you now feels like laying my heart bare to be attacked, even if I trust you.”   


“Would you just look at me?” Tony asked. Stephen lifted his head to meet Tony’s eyes. They were shining with a kind of passion he had never seen in them before. Tony’s mug was set off to the side, forgotten. “What do you want to happen? Tell me that, and we can go from there.”

“I don’t know.” Stephen admitted. “But I want to see how things go. With us.”   


“I can work with that.” Tony nodded, smiling a soft smile like they were both in on an important secret. “I can totally work with that.”

Looking at him then, Stephen realized that none of the many reasons he had given himself to deny the possibility of being with Tony really applied anymore. That didn’t mean he was keen on jumping into anything too quickly, but it did mean that he had an immediate course of action. “Would you like to, erm, come sit with me?”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, but all he said back was a simple, “Yeah.”

The couch that Stephen was sitting on could have fit five or six people comfortably. He moved over a little to give Tony more room. When Tony sat down, he did it tentatively, like he wanted to be careful not to cross any invisible lines between them. They were still separated by a gap of about ten inches.

For a little under half a minute, they just stared at each other. It was quiet enough that Stephen could hear Tony’s breathing. Finally realizing that Tony wasn’t going to make the first move, Stephen gestured for him to move closer. “Come here.”

Tony complied right away, and moved so he was pressed up against Stephen’s side. Since he was a little shorter and he was slouching, his head rested just above Stephen’s shoulder. It was comfortable.

Stephen hadn’t been in a position like this with someone in a long time, and it had definitely never felt this innately right. He slowly wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders. 

“This is nice.” Stephen murmured. 

“It is.” Tony agreed. “You know that I’m here for you, don’t you? I don’t mean about the funding or any of that. I get wanting to do stuff yourself. I mean for anything else.”

“I know. Thank you.”    


“Oh, also. You never told me what you wanted for Christmas.”

“I said that you didn’t have to get me anything.” Stephen said. “That still holds true even now that we’re…” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Buying people stuff is how I show my affection. Well, among other methods.” Tony’s voice got slightly deeper then, and Stephen’s breath caught in his throat. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to ask for.” Stephen reiterated. “Hm, let’s say I agree. What would you want me to get you?”

“You don’t-”

“Ah, ah. If you’re going to force me to accept a generous gift that I’m telling you I don’t need, I’ll need to find something for you.”

“Okay. If you really want to. Don’t feel obligated, though.”

_ What could I get Tony? He has enough money to buy a thousand of anything that I could afford. Besides, I wouldn’t even know where to start. _

Stephen realized that despite his feelings for Tony, he didn’t know the man nearly as well as he felt he should. The little facts about Tony, the things that he could only learn by an abundance of time spent around the man, were still sealed off to him. He would have to rectify that. But first, he had an idea. “What about a repeat of our dinner? I’ll pay for food wherever you want to go, even if it’s an establishment that dips every item on the menu in grease.”   


Tony craned his neck upwards to look at Stephen. He was grinning. “That would be perfect. Seriously. God, you’re the best.”

“Tony.” Stephen said. As soon as he thought he was used to it, the captivating nature of Tony’s looks would strike him again at full force. Combined with all of his emotions directed towards Tony as a person, it was making him lose his mind a little. “I know what you could give me for Christmas.”   


“What?” Tony asked. His pupils dilated, and Stephen guessed that he already knew what was going to be asked for. 

“A kiss.” He breathed softly. As he was saying it, Tony was already leaning up to meet his lips. 

He’d never fully allowed himself to imagine it as he hadn’t thought it would ever come to pass. The bits and pieces that he’d thought about were nothing compared to the real thing, though. His mind slowed as they melted into each other, all earlier worries and preoccupations lost. 

Tony’s lips were soft and Stephen could detect the slight taste of the hot chocolate he had been drinking on them. After a moment, Tony shifted up slowly so he could get a better angle. It was an easygoing embrace, and carried with it the kind of feeling that Stephen associated with free mornings spent in bed reading and muted sunlight streaming in through the windows. It was warm, but the fire between them wasn’t raging. It was enough to comfort both of them without being overwhelming. It was perfect. 

Tony put one of his arms around Stephen and moved up further, so they were hugging each other as they kissed. Sitting there then, Stephen knew that every second of anxieties he’d had about the man had been worth it. With a start, he realized that he would gladly suffer through a million more harsh winters if it meant he got to spend them with Tony. 

When they finally broke away from each other, Tony’s cheeks were a rosy red. He grinned the same self-assured grin that Stephen had become familiar with, but there was true sincerity in his eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re a doctor, because I think you’ve got me experiencing heart palpitations.”

Stephen groaned. “Thanks. The moment is ruined.”   


“You know, if you’re spending more time around me you’re going to have to put up with my jokes.”

“Yes, the key words being ‘put up with’” Stephen responded. Tony laughed, which gave Stephen the incentive to go in for another kiss. This one was short and sweet, but when it ended they kept their faces close, their noses almost touching. 

“I know we’ve only known each other for two or three months, but I wish I had done this sooner.” Stephen said quietly.

“There’s no rush.” Tony assured him, which was something Stephen hadn’t known that he needed to hear until it was said. 

_ There’s still the logistics of the relationship to work out. What if we have a falling out or these feelings right now are just some kind of honeymoon phase? What if he changes his mind? Will he ask me to move in with him eventually? Do I even want to do that? How will everything go down when it goes public that we’re together? _

The idea of everyone knowing about the fragile thing that was growing between them was perhaps the scariest out of all the thoughts that were popping up. Just because he had found the strength to open up with Tony didn’t mean he was inclined to give anyone information about his private life.

“Hey.” Tony poked his nose. “Just thinking?” 

Stephen nodded. “I can’t help it.”

“Tell you what, let’s say we don’t think for the rest of the night. Let’s just sit here, drink our hot chocolate and pretend that our brains are on a vacation somewhere tropical.”

“I wish it was that easy.” Stephen said. “Does it bother you? How I lose myself in thought without realizing it?”

“What? No.” Tony moved one of his fingers in a vague circle pattern on Stephen’s neck. “It’s kinda sexy, actually. Anyways, I do that all the time. I think it’s just something really smart people tend to do.”

“It’s sexy?” There was something ironically amusing about the fact that Tony was finding enjoyment in Stephen’s internal turmoil. It was so comical he wasn’t even bothered by it. Also, Tony was calling him sexy. That was enough to make his heart race. 

“Hell yeah. I’ve noticed that you do it when you play your violin too.”   


Stephen raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been watching me during rehearsal? Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the music, or I don’t know, the conductor?”

“I have most of it memorized. You’re just distracting.”

“Good to know.” Stephen said. “Hopefully I can distract you enough to win back my seat next year.”

“Not likely.” Tony snorted. “Don’t think I’m going to be a pushover now.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be.” Stephen shot Tony a small grin. “But if I do happen to go out of my way to draw your attention during our rehearsals and you start to make more mistakes, what’s there to do?” The idea was partially ridiculous to Stephen and he said it as a joke. Believing that he could really have such an impact on Tony was still hard to do.

However, Tony took it seriously. “Oh my god, stop. That’s not fair at all. You can’t use your innate hotness to throw me off. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I was kidding.”

“Sure you were.” Tony moved up to kiss him again. They got lost in each other for a while after that. Forgetting the rest of the world was easy when Tony was in his arms. 

_ I need to figure some things out before I make this something permanent, but I want it to last. I haven’t felt this happy in forever, and it’s obviously because of him.  _

“Tony.” Stephen spoke quietly against Tony’s lips. “I like you.”

“Yeah. Me too.”   


“I want this to be something meaningful.” Stephen chose his words carefully. “But that also means that I need to figure some things out with myself first. As it is, my job wouldn’t really allow me time for a relationship. I have trouble keeping up with the ensemble already. Also, there are some personal things I think it might be good for me to do before we get serious.”

“That’s fine. It’s all up to you, Doc.”

“Really?” Stephen asked. “I don’t want to make everything about me. I mean, I would like to know how you feel about this. Knowing where you’re at right now is important to me.”

Tony nodded. “To be honest, I’ve had my fair share of rushed relationships. Some of them were so rushed that I’m not sure they even counted as relationships. So, I’m fine with going slow. You’re different than anyone I’ve ever been interested in before. You make me better. Let’s do this the right way. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be here for you whatever happens.”   


“Alright. I’ll be here for you as well.” Stephen was thankful, so thankful that he had found this man. He didn’t believe in things like fate or destiny, so he thanked whatever luck had decided to make Tony Stark cross his path. 

Tony’s expression shifted to something more mischievous. “I hope you know that I’m not going to settle for a kiss as my only Christmas gift for you. I’ve got an ugly sweater in mind that would look absolutely fantastic on you.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t that defeat the point? How is it an ugly sweater if someone looks good in it?”   


“I don’t know, it’s an oxymoron. I’m pretty sure it would be impossible for you to look bad, even if you were wearing a potato sack. Just humor me.”

“All I ever do is humor you.”

“And you’re so good at it!” Tony squeezed Stephen’s arm, which led to another round of slow kisses. 

They talked and talked as evening turned into night. After one particularly long amicable silence between them, Stephen realized that Tony had fallen asleep. The other man was still pressed up against him, his chest rising and falling at an even pace. Not wanting to move and wake him up, Stephen decided to stay there for a while. 

His mind was blissfully empty. All that mattered at the present was him and the man he was with. He vowed to remember the feeling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for taking so long to update! this chapter was hard for me to write for some reason, but I like how it turned out. If you were hoping for a climatic reveal from Stephen, I hope you're not too disappointed. The only way I could really see it happening was this way, which turned out to about as chill and relaxed as it could be. Like Stephen mentions, he has a few things to work out before this story is really, truly done, but it's nice for him not to have so much stress, right? I figure there are a good three or four chapters left in this, but I'm really busy right now so it could be a while before the next one is up. Thanks for reading as always!


End file.
